


Mute Songbird

by DeanneA



Category: Pentatonix, Scomiche - Fandom
Genre: Aphasia, M/M, Mute - Freeform, highschool, stroke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanneA/pseuds/DeanneA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't speak, he hasn't muttered a single intelligible word in years.  In fact, he's stopped even trying.  The strangled noises that he managed to produce during his speech therapy sessions only frustrated and embarrassed him.  And really, it's not so bad, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, this is a direct copy of the story I took down from Wattpad. The spacing that is all off and I haven't put back in the formatting. Sorry. I hope it's still readable and I'll try to fix it when I can but it's a LOT of editing to do.

I walked through the busy halls, nervous but excited too, or maybe that was just anxiety that I refused to acknowledge. My first day had gone a lot better than I'd expected, honestly. I know that everyone's probably just too busy dealing their own lives to bother with me but still, new schools are NO fun. Just trying to find your way around when everyone is moving on autopilot could probably qualify as an Olympic event. I glanced down at my messenger bag and slipped my fingers into the back pocket to make sure my introduction letter was still there. It was.  
Choir was next and then just one more class, history, before I got to head 'home'. Mom was going to pick me up since her new job didn't start for another week. She was ripping through boxes at a feverish pace, trying to get everything settled. She was a pro, really. This was our fourth move in the last three years and she had a system. I did too, but first I had to make it through the school day. Easier said than done.   
Where was 204? Shit, I had definitely missed it. The halls were almost empty now, everyone already in their classrooms and all that was still ahead of me were double doors heading outside. I turned and careened into a boy bending over at the water fountain. Where had he come from? I panicked when he stood, he was a solid 6 inches taller than me, maybe more. He smiled though instead of hitting me so that was a good sign? I guess?  
"Hey. Oh, you're new, right?"  
I shook my head yes.  
"Lost?"  
There was no easy answer to that. I lifted my schedule and pointed to choir.  
"Oh, you're in luck. Follow me." He opened a door that I had missed, probably because the windows were blacked out and it looked more like a storage room from the hallway than a choir room. "Hey Mrs. Clark, one of the exchange students is with us!"   
He crossed the room effortlessly and took a seat on the bleachers while I wondered why in the world he thought I was an exchange student. I smiled at Mrs. Clark and handed her my letter.  
"Welcome, welcome. I'll sign it after class. Have a seat."  
Not good, not good at all. She was going to ask me questions and I was going to look like a freak. I sat in the very front, below most of the guys.  
"Okay.... Mitch" she said, glancing at the paper "what part do you sing?"  
I stared, panic swelling in my chest.  
"Mrs. Clark, I don't think he speaks English" my hallway guide offered and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry because it got me out of the jam I was in.  
I heard a few of the other students saying that I should, that they'd been in a class with other exchange students and they spoke English, but Mrs. Clark shushed them.  
"Alright Mitch, why don't you just watch today, alright?"  
I nodded my head happily and opened the song binder I'd found on my seat, curious as to what they would be working on. The class passed quickly and I focused on following the printed music as they sang. It was the only way I could learn it, but somehow with enough repetition and being able to see the patterns, eventually I would be able to join in.   
It was a cruel joke, really, but I wasn't about to argue. It had been months after my stroke before we figured out I could do it. It was my mom's birthday, oddly enough, and I'd sort of stolen the show. I could remember it clear as day; looking down at the cake, the candles, me planning to try to hum along. Instead I opened my mouth and the words came out, almost as effortlessly as they would have a year prior. By the end of the song I had been the only one singing and my mom had stared at me so long that the wax from her candles had dripped all over the cake.  
Of course, that singing had led to other doctor visits, more scans, more therapy. Nothing had changed after the great revelation and thousands of dollars funneled though the system though, nothing had changed. Except that I, in the privacy of my room, start trying to sing songs I had known before my stroke. After a few weeks I got brave and tried singing along to the radio. It was harder, somehow. The songs I'd known beforehand seemed more ingrained or perhaps were stored in a different part of my now damaged brain. Sheet music had been the missing link, and now I could sing something after only a few run-throughs if I had the music.  
I'm not really sure what I would have done without singing. It gave me some freedom, some escape from the relentless pressure of disappointing everyone. It also gave me a way to express myself. If I was sad, I had albums for that. Happy? Well, fewer albums but yeah, there were songs for that too. So I sang for myself, and I sang for my parents who needed to feel, for just a moment, that I was okay.  
And I was.... mostly.  
Sort of.  
Barely.

 

 

I waited patiently as the other students spilled out of the room boisterously. End-of-day euphoria was setting in and they seemed to be feeling it even more than I was, if that's possible.  When the student who Mrs. Clark was speaking with left and she was free, I walked to her podium.  
"Ah Mitch, yes, let me take a look at this." Pulling the letter up I sensed her uncertainty immediately, it wasn't the letter she was expecting. "So you can not speak? At all?"  
I shook my head 'no.'  
"But you are taking choir? Mitch, I don't mean to be rude, but this is not a free class. My students are here to work, and to sing. This is not an easy 'A'."  
I grabbed my binder, searching for the note I'd written especially for her. Why didn't I have it ready? I had been so prepared the first few classes but as the day wore on I was slipping. I handed it to her and waited anxiously while she read it.  
Hi,  
My name is Mitch and I had a stroke 3 years ago. I can not speak, but I can sing. I need to hear the entire song several times, and having sheet music helps. I'm a tenor, and would like the opportunity to be part of your choir.  
"Makes more sense than you being one of the German exchange students. Scott amuses me although I guess there was no way for him to know. You picked a great time to start, you're coming in right in the middle of all the excitement." She handed me the letter, then put her hands together as if she were praying. "So, can you sing me something you've sung before? A song you already know?"  
So his name was Scott? I filed it away for future reference. I nodded my head yes because I could definitely sing something, but I hated singing in front of people. If she was going to be my director though, she needed to hear me and I didn't blame her for wanting proof. I was serious about this and willing to overcome my shyness if it meant I'd have a place. My brain was doing loops though, so I tried to focus on things I'd sung for the Christmas concert back in Atlanta. I closed my eyes, and rather timidly, began 'Holy Night'. I didn't open my eyes until I'd finished the first verse, and then the smile on her face encouraged me to continue.  
"You have an amazing voice Mitch. Welcome to the choir. Now, it's late, you'll need a note for your next class." She hastily scribbled onto the back of a piece of music and handed it to me. "See you tomorrow?"  
I smiled and nodded, then navigated the near-empty halls to my history classroom. It went fine, the teacher completely ignored me until I showed him my letter after class. He looked it over as if he thought I'd forged it, then eventually said 'Well that's just fine. Welcome.' It took me about 10 minutes to find my locker once the dismissal bell rang since I was in an entirely different wing of the building. There was no way I'd make it here from history and then to the bus next week, I'd have to plan better.  
For today though, I was safe. I just had to find the front door and then try to figure out where my mom was parked in all the madness. Maybe it was good that I was a few minutes late. I didn't bother to hurry, I needed to collect my thoughts before she bombarded me with 'how was it honey?' questions. I heard him before I saw him, but recognized his voice instantly.  
"Hey, it's Mitch, right? Wait up" he called, coming up behind me. "Hi, I'm Scott" he said, speaking slowly and pointing to himself.  
Oh god, he still thought... this was fun. I got out my notepad anyway, I'm not mean. I'm not an exchange student. I understand English but can't speak.  
He read it, then looked up at me. "Are you deaf?" he asked slowly.  
No. I can hear you just fine.  
"Why can't you talk?" he asked, falling into step beside me.  
Stroke  
"Wow, um, okay. So you missed the buses, do you have a ride?"  
I nodded, glad to push open the doors and step into the warm afternoon. He got major points for not crying, wailing at life and saying 'I'm sorry!!' 29 times. See you tomorrow. I tucked my notepad back into my pocket, arranged my bag and waved good-bye, stepping down and onto the sidewalk, scanning for my mom's car. She must have seen me because she pulled up 10 seconds later.  
"Hey honey, how was it?"  
I smiled and gave her a thumbs up, then wiggled it a little bit.  
"I know, first days are hard. You made a friend though? You can tell me about him at home. Do you have homework?"  
I made a face of utter revulsion and she laughed.  
"Nothing like jumping right in. Well I managed to get the kitchen unpacked and the dining room table is free so you have room to do homework and I am going to actually cook some real dinner. Sound good?"  
I nodded, then turned my gaze out the window to check out my new town. I had no idea how long I'd be here, but it seemed as good of a place as any. I had no plans of doing my homework first thing though, I still had a lot to finish up in my room. I'd gotten my clothes unpacked and my bed made, but my walls were still bare and my books and music were in boxes. That needed to change, tonight.

 

 

So today I've gotten the usual 'Hey, what's your name? Huh? Huh???' and 'If you want me to leave you alone, just say something' but really, nothing major. Luckily it usually blows over, if the past was any guide. I was new and interesting and by next week I'd be old news. I liked that just fine. And there was something about having a stroke that made most decent people realize that teasing and shit is mean. I guess they were worried I'd spazz out on the floor or something maybe, or just knew that I couldn't help not talking. Either way, my second day was pretty good.  
Not only did I know my way around a little better, but I managed to get myself completely excused from gym. I hadn't actually participated in Phys. Ed since my stroke because the idea of being nailed in the head by a ball didn't really appeal to me or my doctors. At Springfield, my last school, I'd had to suit up and watch though. Let me tell you something you won't believe; putting on ugly gold polyester shorts and sitting around for an hour a day in the dirt or on hard metal bleachers is NOT my idea of fun. The counsellor here decided I could be an office aid instead and set me to work filing some papers. Not exactly thrilling but I finished up in about 20 minutes and got all of my math homework out of the way before the bell rang. Hell yeah.  
Next, choir. After this it was just history which, judging by yesterday, was going to be a lot of movies and naps, so it almost felt like having half days on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Maybe I'd actually get to come back in the fall and do a full year here; I wouldn't mind. In a moment of genius, I found the choir door on the first try now that I knew it looked like the entrance to the catacombs and walked in, realizing right away that I had no idea where to sit. Luckily Mrs. Clark came to my rescue when I glanced at her and shrugged my shoulders.  
"Mitch? This is Paul. Paul, raise your hand. Sit next to him please. Go at your own pace and join in whenever you're ready, okay?"  
I nodded and smiled, then grabbed the binder off the chair next to Paul and sat down. To my left was a pretty girl with glasses and she smiled before looking away shyly. I knew the feeling. Scott bounced in a minute later; he either had class in Tennessee or just liked cutting it close. I decided on the second since I'd seen him, okay fine, crashed into him at the water fountain yesterday. He waved at me and I waved back, but he sat way to my right and in the back row, away from my prying eyes. Oh well, at least I wouldn't be distracted.  
There was no way I would be able to contribute for at least a week because all the songs were new and they were more complicated than what my prior choir had sung so I sat and listened, trying to memorize the sheet music and make it magically connect with some small, still functioning portion of my brain. When the bell rang I stood but Mrs. Clark called my name before I reached the doors.   
"Mitch, how long does it normally take you to learn your parts?"  
I grabbed my notepad and hastily scribbled: a few weeks. It actually didn't usually take me quite that long but I wanted to build in a little bit of leeway for myself.   
"That's cutting it very, very close. We have a spring competition, States, the end May. Is there anything I can do to help speed that up? I'm not trying to pressure you, just hoping for some of that gorgeous tenor to help strengthen the high end, you understand?"  
I nodded my head. Have recordings?  
"I do, of at least two of them, but... I'm not legally allowed to hand them out and I certainly don't have the Webber on tape. Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "What if someone helped you? Can someone sing with you to practice? Let me think who would be best...."  
And I swear, you couldn't have planned it better if God himself had orchestrated the whole thing. Scott walked back in the door, mumbling that he'd forgotten his hat.  
"You're not supposed to wear hats in school Scott" Mrs. Clark chastised.  
"If I'd been wearing it, I wouldn't have forgotten it" he joked with that thousand megawatt smile.  
"Well you certainly have a point. Scott? What are you doing this afternoon? Tomorrow?"  
"Um, nothing. Going home to eat everything in the house and listen to music while I do my homework. The usual. Why?"  
"Any chance you two live near each other?" she asked, looking back and forth.  
"I don't know, but his mom picks him up, right? Why?"  
"Oh this is going to be just perfect. Scott, how would you like to be my favorite baritone this week?"  
"I sure wouldn't mind since it would be nice to have another solo next year. Any chance it comes with those cookies you brought in at Christmas?"

 

 

So that's how I ended up in the backseat of my mom's car with a song binder on my lap and a very tall, very blonde guy sitting next to me.  He and my mom were hitting it off like I'd never seen.  I'd never seen a kid so at ease with adults and actually seem like they WANTED to talk to them.  Weird.  I have a working theory that he is definitely an only child.   Maybe his parents are divorced and his mom works like two jobs and never has time for him?  I don't know.  Either way, they hadn't stopped talking for more than 3 seconds at a time since he'd gotten in.  She wanted to know all about the school, and the choir, and the neighborhood and Scott was more than happy to fill her in.  Next they'd probably move on to politics and agree about that too.  
I wasn't complaining, not really.  I knew that most of the happiness on my mom's face was the fact that I had a 'friend' and not the fact that she had a teenager in the car she could actually carry on a conversation with.  I didn't really blame her for being talkative, especially since she'd been stuck with just me on the car ride to Texas, since my dad had flown in for work a week before our house was ready.  It wasn't *that* bad, we sang a lot, but still....  
"Here we are Scott" she said, pulling into our driveway.  "It's still a mess inside, sorry.  You boys just find wherever works the best for you, and let me know when you want me to take you home.  I'll whip you up a snack in a few minutes, okay?"  
"You live here?" he asked me, and I nodded.  
"I literally live like 3 blocks away.  This is so cool.  I can just walk Mrs. G, no worries."  
"Well isn't that convenient!  I guess you'll probably be on the same bus too? That's great.  Isn't that great Mitch?"    
She disappeared in a blur of red jacket and I grabbed my stuff and headed upstairs.  I looked back to make sure Scott was following me and he was, so he gets a few points for that one.   Trust me, try not talking for three years.  Some people have NO clue how to deal with themselves around me.  I reconsidered letting him see my room but really, the rest of the house was a mess and I didn't want to keep my mom from working.  We'd be more out of the way up here.  
I tossed my bag on my bed and motioned towards the desk chair which he took over.  His long legs took up half of my room, but I had the bed so I didn't care.  Now for the hard part.  I opened my song binder and sort of waved my hand over it, then made two thumbs-up and bounced them up and down.  
"Is that sign language?"  
I nodded.  
"Do you know a lot of it?"  
I shook my head no.  I knew some of the basics, some of my therapists had insisted.  My folks knew too, and it was really convenient to be able to sign 'which', 'where', 'hungry' or 'sick' but it's not like we used it much.  I managed just fine with my trusty notepad.  I raised my eyebrows, questioning.  
"Um, want to just start with the one we were doing in class?  Since it's still in your head?"  
I nodded emphatically, then found the page.  
"Hey, do you play?" Scott asked, noticing my keyboard still propped on it's side in the corner.  When I nodded, he continued.  "Want to accompany me, or will that throw off your learning curve?  Sorry, I don't know how it works."  
I don't really know either  I scribbled, earning a chuckle.  But I can if you're nervous  
He leaned in, squinting at the pad, then sat back.  "Me?  Nervous?  Doesn't happen.  Okay, sometimes, but I'm fine.  Just trying to figure out how to make this work.  Hey, why don't you record it on your phone?  Then you can play it back whenever."  
He was smart.  That WAS a damn good idea.  It also meant I wouldn't have to rely on him coming back which was probably a good thing.  He went through that song and then one more before mom called us downstairs to eat.  
"How's it going up there?  I heard you a bit Scott, you have a great voice."  
"Thanks Mrs. G."  
"Have you gotten Mitch to sing something for you yet?"  
I gave my mom the look of death and silently begged 'Cut it out!' but she was undeterred.  
"It's amazing, really.  How he can sound like that.... well it's a miracle and a blessing.  We're holding out hope that he'll be speaking again soon."  
"He might talk?  I mean, it's possible?" Scott asked, mouth half full.  
"Yes, absolutely.  The thing is though that his speech centers were horribly damaged.  He'll need to relearn to speak using a different part of his brain and that's not an easy process.  But he's strong, and stubborn, and I'm hopeful."  
"Can I ask what happened?  I mean, how did you have a stroke?"  
I shook my head no, then headed upstairs.  I'd officially had all I could take of her optimism and I really didn't need her recruiting Scott onto the 'Have Faith!' committee.   Yet somehow, as much as I hated that, I needed to spend a half hour listening to my mom practically break into tears talking about what happened even less. I understood that she needed to believe that I'd speak again but THIS was my reality and when you're living with something day in and day out, dreams are a double edged sword.  Sometimes I needed to accept what WAS instead of hoping for change that probably wouldn't come.  It was a coping mechanism for her, I got that.  But this was mine.

 

 

"Sorry if I got too nosy and shit. That got kind of personal huh?" I expected him to sit back in the chair but instead he was on my bed and I sat down at the desk instead. "No, Mitch?  I can't really read your notes from back there. Can you sit over here? I don't have some deadly virus or anything. I mean, I had that avian flu a few weeks ago but I'm feeling much better."  
Okay, he was funny and yeah, my writing was sort of small and he'd been nothing but great to me. I had no right to be mad. So, I sat, perched on the end with my legs crossed like I was going to have high tea with the Queen or something. Not that I wouldn't love to, I mean, really? But not quite the look I was going for so I uncrossed them.  
"So, I'll start, how about that? I'll tell you about me and then you can write and tell me whatever you want. Cool?"  
I wasn't sure I had a choice, but I was curious so I nodded.  
"I've lived here my whole life. It's actually a pretty decent town, and close to the city which is great. Uh, I love music. I mean, really love it. And I don't play basketball even though everyone expects me to. I tried it once when I was like 10 and it did NOT go well. Do you play any sports?"  
Negative.  
"You didn't really look like the type but you never know. Chess nerd by any chance?"  
I was offended and he could tell.  
"I am, I'm really a total dork. Oh well, I was hoping. So what DO you like?"  
Music. Anime. Movies too, but cartoons are my thing. All the shit on my walls.  
"Finally, permission to look around." He stood and started at my door and made a full circuit around my room. "I like you already. So, I guess I should offer to do another song?"  
No need. Two is enough right now. Maybe another in a week or so? If you don't mind?  
"Yeah sure. Another thing, I talk a lot. And you don't talk, well at all. So uh, just tell me to shut up if you want me to. Okay? So do you miss your old school? Friends? Moving must be hard."  
Didn't have any really. It's fine  
"The whole quiet thing? But you seem awesome, I'm sure someone wanted to... nobody?"  
My choice  
"Oh, okay. Well, uh, I'm honored then!"  
Nothing happened, I mean no reason. I just froze and was numb, couldn't really talk. Felt like a bad dream. I was at home luckily. Scared my mom though so I don't like to talk about it.  
"Oh your stroke? Did it hurt?"  
Yeah but not my head. My muscles sort of freaked out  
"Is it uh, gonna happen again?"  
I'm on medication but who knows  
"Oh. Well thanks for telling me. I don't quite get how you can sing and not talk though. I mean, I don't mean you're lying! I just don't get it."  
Me neither. Google if you want  
"Alrighty then. Conversation over huh? Fine, that's cool. I guess I should head home, I've probably overstayed my welcome. Besides, homework. I have math from Mr. MacAfee that's literally impossible."  
Level?  
"Trig"  
Me too, did mine. Want me to help?  
"Oh you're in the second period class? Could you, really? Even if I can just look at yours, I mean the steps, not the answers. I can't wrap my head around the new tangent formula."  
I laughed and he looked at me like he was surprised I could. Granted, it didn't sound like it used to, but I could do it.  
"Good, I like to know when I'm funny. Was that for the answers bit?" he asked, then waited a second to give me a chance to nod. "Or that I'm completely incapable of understanding tangents?"  
I nodded when he finished and he looked offended. I shrugged my shoulders and pulled out my homework. I hadn't realized how late it was until mom popped her head in and asked if Scott wanted to stay for dinner. He looked at me and I nodded happily, so he accepted.  
So are you an only child and live with your mom who's never home?  
"What? Uh, no. I have two sisters but they're both out of the house now; one's in college and the other is doing an internship in England for a year. My mom is usually home by 5. Dad sometimes later, but by 6 or so. Why?"  
Curious  
"I'm curious as in weird or you were curious?"  
I held up two fingers and he looked at me a moment in confusion.  
"Oh, the second one. You were curious. Got ya. I'll figure you out eventually Mitch, no worries."  
For a moment I allowed myself to think that maybe he would. But I'd been through this before. I was a shiny new toy and right now, I was a challenge. Eventually though, the new car smell would wear off and he'd find better ways to spend his days than dealing with me.  
"Dinner!!!" my mom called.  
As soon as we headed down the stairs, Scott grabbed my arm. "It smells delicious! What is it?"  
I couldn't answer him though, and figured he'd know soon enough. As soon as we hit the dining room, my guess was confirmed. Yummy.  
"It's lasagna! Wow! Thanks so much Mrs. G!" He looked to me, then my mom before settling on my dad.  
"Oh Scott, this is Mr. Grassi. Mike, Scott's helping Mitch learn the new music for choir."  
"Well in that case, I'll gladly share some of Nel's world famous lasagna. Nice to meet you Scott."

 

 

On Friday, Scott was standing in the hallway just outside the choir room when I arrived.  I was super surprised to see him not rushing in at the last moment until I realized he was waiting for me.  We hadn't really talked much since he'd come over to my house, although he'd smiled and said 'hi', so I had no idea what was up or why he was guarding the door.  
"Hey Mitch?"  
I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.  
"Any chance we could get together this weekend and study for the Trig test?  I mean, you probably don't need to study so I guess I should ask if there's any way you could help ME study?  At least enough to not tank my semester grade?"  
I nodded.  I actually did need to study because I'd missed more than half of the stuff that would be on the test.  Mr. MacAfee had given me a list but it would be nice to go through Scott's homework and notes and see exactly what they had done.  
"Which day?  Saturday?"  
Affirmative.  
"Not too early though, please?  After lunch, like 2?"  
I pressed my hand to my chest, then pointed at him, finally turning my hand upright.  
"Oh either one, I know where your place is so I can just come over there?"  
I nodded just as Mrs. Clark peeked her head out of the door.  "Are you two planning on joining us today?"  
I shot her an apologetic smile before taking my seat.  That day, I actually managed the chorus of the song they'd been working on all week.  It was a good start and you know what they say about starting; it's always the hardest.  It made my day.  Scott had mouthed 'see you tomorrow' as he left, and I had to admit that I was looking forward to it.  A lot more than I should be.  
I was still pretty spaced out when my history teacher called my name soon after a note was delivered by an office aide.  He told me to take my things so I packed everything up and headed to the Vice-Principals' office where a woman was waiting for me.  
"Hi Mitch, I'm Mrs. Maldonado.  I'm the SLP for the school district, you're familiar with the term?"  
I nodded, I'd seen several speech-language pathologists since my stroke but wasn't expecting to see one here.  
"Come with me to my office, please."  
I followed behind, more perturbed than anything.  I had managed to broker a deal with my mom that I would go to the private sessions she planned and skip those at school.  Her reasons for agreeing were simple; she didn't want to fight with me about it and she assumed (probably correctly) that someone with experience dealing with stroke victims was going to be more helpful than the school's pathologist who was more used to dealing with diction issues or stutters.   So, long story short, I had no idea why I had been pulled out of class but it was history, so at least I wasn't missing anything.  During class today he had literally had people taking turns reading paragraphs out of the book because he'd given up on my classmates actually doing ANY homework.  Me though, I could read at home.  A lot faster, too.  
"So Mitch" she said, sitting down and motioning me to do the same.  She slid a pad of paper towards me and then asked me, in sign language, if I signed.  Small  I signed back and she pointed to the paper.  "Why aren't you signed up for therapy?"  
Therapy at hospital, mom sets up.  
"How often?"  
2/week  
"That's not enough Mitch.  Have you considered 'Constraint-induced therapy'?"  
I just shrugged and nodded no, the words didn't mean anything to me.  
"Your comprehension skills are amazingly good considering your complete lack of speech.  Do you have any sounds or words?"  
I shook my head 'no'.  Sounds, yes.  Words, no.  Even when I did manage to say them, I couldn't repeat them or even usually remember what I'd just said.  My brain just couldn't quite do it.  Except when I sang and even then, it didn't FEEL like I was talking or even really thinking about them.  
"Is it true you can sing?"  
I nodded.  
"Mitch, I believe you're a strong candidate for CIT.  It's very intensive therapy, and I would be happy to work with you for the rest of the school year and then go into half-day therapy sessions over the summer.  Here's some information, take it home to your parents please."  
She handed me, no kidding, about 14 pamphlets.  I couldn't help but think of Miss Pillsbury on Glee.  She had hilarious pamphlets with titles like 'So, you like throwing up' and 'Wow!  There's a hair down there!' and I was almost afraid to look.  I shoved them into my bag and decided I'd let my mom deal with it.     
"I'll pull you out of class on Monday and we can discuss things, okay?  Is last period a good time for you?" she asked, standing.  
I did too and nodded, she could get me out of history anytime she wanted to.

 

 

"MITCH!  Door!!" My father yelled from the living room, which was in fact right NEXT to the front door.  But, being the amazing son that I am, didn't even throw anything at him when I walked past him to open it.  
"Hey Mitch!" Scott said happily.  "I brought my books."  
He seemed so proud of himself that I gave him a thumbs up and let him in.   
"Your room?"  
I nodded and followed him up the stairs.  As soon as I was inside, he swooped behind me and closed the door.  
"Was that YOU yesterday?" he demanded.  "I didn't want to say anything in front of your parents and embarrass you or whatever but was it?  In choir?  The chorus?"  
I sort of dipped my head and shrugged and tried to not look completely embarrassed.  
"Do it again!  Please?" he asked.  
Okay forget not being embarrassed, I was now panicking and doing my best impression of a deer caught in headlights.  I shook my head no.  
"I will do anything!  What do you want?  My hat?  A piggy-back ride?  For me to show you the hole in the female teachers bathroom?"  
My mouth dropped open and then flopped around like a fish because I was fucking GONE.  
"Oh god not to WATCH!  No, no, but you can hear them talking.  Oh god, not... EWWW!"  And then he laughed.  He laughed so hard he ended up on the floor.  
I joined in, then couldn't stop.  I had tears, literal tears rolling down my face.  
"I don't WATCH!  What kind of sick fuck do you think I am??  I don't go over there, I just know about it.  Oh god.  That is NOT something I want to see!  You must think I'm a total perv!  I'm not, I swear."  He was almost as flustered at me at this point.  
I managed to calm down just enough to scribble messily:  But Mrs. Maldonado is pretty?  
"Yeah, she is.  Still not my type."  
Mrs. Kaplan-Littlestein?  Don't tell her husband!  
"Mr Kaplan?  No, no, he's her brother!"  
That's less creepy.  They look too much alike.  So what is your type?  
He sat up and scooted back on the floor.  "Um, actually........."  
I raised my eyebrows, waiting.  
"Can I tell you a secret?  You won't tell, right?  Sorry, was that mean?  I'm just... um I'm gay.  I mean I think so, I'm pretty sure.  I mean I haven't really.... well, does that bother you?"    
He looked so vulnerable and all I wanted to do was laugh in relief.  I shook my head no and pointed to my chest.  
"You're not.  Okay.  I mean, I wasn't---"  
I waved my hand to get his attention and pointed to myself, nodding yes this time.  Then I pointed to him, and back at me.  I gave up and wrote, I couldn't risk him not understanding me.  I meant it doesn't bother me because I am too.    
"Thank Beyoncé!  I was hoping but.... okay.  Cool."  Finally a smile reappeared on his face.   
Do your parents know?  
 "No, they don't.  A few people but not them, yet.  Yours?"  
I shook my head no.  
"So um, Trig?  No, wait, you owe me a song.  Please?"  
If you ace the test Monday, I'll sing for you.  
"But we won't get the grades back until at least Wednesday, maybe Thursday!  No, please?"  
He had the most adorable pout.  Still, I didn't feel comfortable with the song yet and I couldn't just jump into it.  
"If I sing my part, will you join in the chorus?  I just want to hear you" he practically begged.  He saw me wavering.  "I was so brave, come on, please?  It can be my 'coming out to a practical stranger in HIS house' award."  
I chuckled, mostly because he was right.  Then, after making him wait and beg just another second, I nodded.  If you sing though.  I don't know it well enough to do alone yet.  I'd heard him sing this song a few times last week, but it was still damn pretty.  He had a very melodic baritone, nice and rich, and an amazing range.  We were halfway through the chorus when he stopped singing.  I managed to make it to the end of the line, but then I stopped too, there just weren't any more words in my head.  
"Wow.  Oh wow!  You're amazing Mitch!"  
There were a million things I wanted to say and the feeling hit me like a rock.  I couldn't though, I couldn't tell him 'so were you' or 'you're just saying that' or 'sing it again and don't stop this time so we can finish it'.  Well actually, I could.  I could say ONE of those things, but not all.  I had to pick and choose which was most important because by the time I had written it out and he had responded, the moment would be gone.  And that was honestly the most devastating part about being mute; the limitations when life was happening and I couldn't quite catch up.  
"Are you okay?"  
I hadn't expected that, I liked to think that I was as closed off as I felt.  I thought my mask was better than that. I nodded yes, but it was a small nod, and I couldn't quite force myself to smile.  
"It's okay... if you're not, I mean.  It's great if you are but if not, that's fine too.  Want me to go?"  
NO!!  It's fine, besides, we haven't even started.  
"Trig then?"

 

Monday morning, Scott had shown up just in time for us to practically run to the bus stop. Well, he walked with his long legs which meant I had to power walk like one of those 50-year old ladies you see doing laps at the mall. I breezed through my math test; it actually wasn't as hard as I had been worried about. Scott gave me a thumbs up when I got to choir so he'd done well too. I was glad.   
We started on a new song which was rather disappointing. I felt close to getting the other one but when we finally did a run-through of it at the end, I barely managed the chorus again. My head was too full of the new notes. I'd have to practice it several times every afternoon on my own; luckily I had Scott's version on my phone.  
I had completely forgotten about Mrs. Maldonado's therapy ideas and hadn't even taken the pamphlets out of my book bag over the weekend When she called me in I apologized and told her I needed more time to think about it. She was nice about it and I got the impression that she was only pushing because she really wanted to help. I kept the truth to myself; it wasn't really worth trying. I was hopeless.  
Scott was already on the bus when I got there, surrounded by a small gang who were all laughing and carrying on. He waved me back when I got on but I sat alone up front; I wasn't in the mood to be around that many strangers. Besides, he was being insanely nice to me; the least I could do was let him have some time to talk to his friends. They'd probably been riding this bus together since elementary school.   
Honestly, I was drained. Starting a new school was exhausting. I'd been there a week but everything was still hard. I had to look at my schedule constantly to remember which wing everything was in. I didn't know the shortcuts. I didn't know which school lunches to avoid like the plague. Mental note, it IS possible to ruin a hamburger and never, ever get the peaches again.  
Scott fell into step with me, easily catching up once he'd gotten off the bus. "Hey, I have an idea."  
I guess he knew my facial expressions pretty well by now because he grinned and continued.  
"No, no, it's a good idea. I was thinking that I should show you my house. That way you'll know where to find me. Besides, my dad's home so I can prove to you that I have parents" he teased. "That also means that he's cooking dinner which means chili which means YUM. You in?"  
I nodded, then pulled out my phone to text my mom. Technology is amazing. I have no doubt that life must have been a lot harder for people like me before cell phones. I mean, I could have walked home and left a note but this was sure as hell easier. It gave me a lot of independence which really just means that mom worried less and let me out of her sight more often. So, yay for phones.  
*** *** ***  
The rest of the week and the few after that fell into a very predictable pattern. I started picking Scott up from his house because it was on the way to the bus stop and I felt better because even if he was late, I would still make it. He told me that he was better at being on time if people were waiting for him and surprisingly, he only ran out of his house without shoes once.  
After school we either went to his place and played video games, or came over to my house to study and lay out on the deck now that the weather was getting nice and warm. Soon it would be too hot to be outside, so he said, so we made the most of it. We went to the mall and saw movies on the weekends. His parents took me swimming once, and he went with mine to the carnival.  
In other words, we were inseparable. The only times we weren't together were the afternoons I went to speech therapy and Sundays, which my dad declared 'church and family' day. I hated Sundays, and I hated church. Trying to walk around and fit in was hard for me on a normal day. On Sundays it really felt like everyone was staring at me. Granted, some of them were, but I felt like I was wearing an "I'm GAY!" t-shirt with a unicorn and rainbows on the front. I was complaining about it one Monday after school when Scott blurted out:  
"I want to come out to my parents. What about you?"  
I shook my head so violently that I needed a mirror to fix my hair. Not happening.  
"Why not?"  
Did you miss the part about church?!  
He paused a moment, obviously thinking. "Okay, what about this? I do it first and that way if mine freak, I can stay at your place a few days, right? And then once that settles down, we'll figure you out. We can be each others back-up plan."  
I will totally support you but I can't come out. When?  
"I want to just do it and get it over with. Maybe Friday so I could spend the night if it goes bad? Would that be okay if I stayed here?"  
Of course.   
"I don't know what I'd do without you Mitch. You're really important to me, you know that right?"  
Same.

 

 

I was a nervous wreck on Friday. We went over to his house after school and played Mario Kart until 5:30 and then I scampered home for dinner. I'd kept him company as long as I could, but he wanted to be alone when he told his folks. Hey, whatever worked for him, right?  
My mom asked me what was wrong and I really, really wanted to tell her what was happening over at the Hoying house. It would lead to a conversation that I knew we had to have eventually, as in soon, but I really didn't want to do it with a piece of paper. I couldn't hold my own, I couldn't fight back without words in my pocket.   
I was truly, honestly worried that my father was going to lose it and I just didn't want to add that to his 'reasons my son is a fuck-up' list. Okay, he didn't have that list, at least not in writing; he was really great. Well, except for the whole church thing. We were good, and I didn't want to ruin that. My mom would be okay probably, but she'd have to deal with the aftermath and with my father and I just couldn't do that to her. Making them miserable to make myself a little happier seemed almost cruel.  
After dinner that night I went upstairs and finally dug out the pamphlets Mrs. Maldonado had given me and went online to google. I'd already had a stroke, I wasn't too worried they'd tell me I also had some weird intestinal parasite that would kill me. For me, the worst case scenario had already happened. How bad could the therapy be, really? Maybe it was worth a shot, maybe it was different enough that it would somehow force my brain to make some new connections. I needed a lot of them, I'd seen the scans and it was like a 9.9 earthquake in there. Whatever, however high the Richter scale went.  
Twenty minutes later I was disappointed. It was just therapy but instead of being nice about it, they took away every other form of communication you had. No notes, no gesturing, no anything. They thought my brain was just taking the easy way out and if it HAD to, it would what? Magically decide to work? It wasn't like I just didn't WANT to, I wasn't being lazy. I was going into Mrs. Maldonado's office on Monday to tell her where to stick her pamphlets.  
I heard the door and his voice even though he'd said he would text me. I didn't really care though, plans were made to be broken on nights like these, right? I ran down the stairs hoping to god he wouldn't say anything to my parents. He looked okay though and they disappeared as soon as I got there.  
"Can I stay?"  
I nodded so many times I felt my brain rattle. I took his hand and pulled him up to my room, wanting to hear everything but he just dropped his bag.  
"Want to take a walk to the creek?"  
Wait tell me how  
He saw my note and interrupted before I'd finished. "Later, okay? Let's get out of here."  
I nodded and followed him down the steps, slipping my shoes on. He'd told me about the creek before but had told me that it wasn't much to see so we hadn't gotten around to visiting it yet. I knew he'd been there a lot when he was a kid though so it made sense that he might find comfort there. I tried to not let my imagination run wild but he wouldn't be acting like this if it was fine, right? There was no way things had gone well.  
He helped me up onto a ginormous rock, laughing and telling me to trust him as he pulled me up. It was flat on top though and once I was there the view was amazing.  
"How do you sign 'fine' or 'okay'? Do you know?"  
I showed him the easy one, hand open and facing left, my thumb touching my chest. 'OK' was easy to fingerspell but the 'k' was always hard for newbies.  
"And I can point to myself for 'me' or 'I'm', right?"  
I nodded. He grinned and signed that he was okay. He laughed when he saw my reaction. "Everything went okay. I was shaking and a mess but it was alright. I think dad was surprised and I don't know, maybe he's not as okay as he seemed but they didn't yell or kick me out or anything. God I was so scared."  
I smacked him in the arm and stood up.  
"What?"  
I pointed to myself and wanted to sign but didn't know enough and wanted more than anything to yell 'I was fucking worried about you, you nitwit! I was scared shitless and you should have told me you were fine at the house instead of making me worry about you' but I couldn't. I was frustrated beyond belief and the more he smiled up at me like all was right in the world, the more angry I got. I tried to get down but he grabbed my arm.  
"No, this way" he said, guiding me to the other side of the rock. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy for me!"  
I tried to smile and nod, I was happy for him. I was just everything else though too, for myself.  
"Write something, please?"  
I grabbed my notebook out of my pocket and launched it towards the river, then slid down the rock and stomped off in the direction of my house before turning and heading along the river instead. He didn't deserve me being mad, I was being a jerk, but I couldn't help it. I was sick and tired of pretending. HE didn't have to hide, HE could talk, HE could do anything he wanted. Everyone could, except me.

 

 

I can't say I was surprised he followed me, although it pissed me off. Of course NOT following me would have been much worse. He really couldn't win at that point and I hated myself for it. I was being stupid and immature and just basically pitching a hissy fit. I was literally angry about him not communicating with me while I stormed off and refused to, you got it, communicate. At least I recognized my asinine behavior. That counts for something, right?  
What did surprise me is that he didn't grab me and spin me around, forcing me to talk. Instead he took my hand in his and walked silently beside me. The feeling of his hand wrapped around mine was almost enough to make me forget my name much less my problems, but they continued to simmer while I focused on him for a minute.  
I wiggled my fingers a bit and he relaxed his hold just enough for me to adjust my grip and lace my fingers into his. My other hand managed to grab my phone and type out sorry. I showed it to him, then expanded on it. Not mad at you. Happy for you I swear. Frustrated with life.  
"As long as you're not mad at me, you can be as pissed off as you want. I wish I could help Mitch. I picked up your notebook, do you want to sit and talk?"  
You are helping. I looked at my slightly rumpled notebook, glad that I couldn't throw worth a damn, then took it and slipped it into my pocket.  
"Is it because I came out and you don't feel like you can?"  
I shrugged my shoulders and nodded a bit.  
"I'm sorry. I'll help you, whenever you're ready. Is it other stuff too?"  
Affirmative.  
"Why did you throw your notebook? Are you frustrated that you can't say what's on your mind? Or want to say something you can't?"  
I nodded sadly.  
He stopped and leaned against a tree. I ended up facing him by default, our hands still linked. "You can, you know. I'll wait. I know it's hard to type it all out, or write it, whatever, but I'll listen Mitch. You can tell me. Anything. And I was thinking that you should teach me all the signs you know, and we can watch videos online, right? That would be easier for you than writing, right? And in the fall we could take the sign language class at school, okay? We can learn, Mitch. I want to."  
And then, when I was already embarrassed to the point of death, I started crying. I wanted to smash my head into a tree but instead I sank to the ground and tried to cover my face. I was going to lose him if I didn't get my shit together but instead of helping, that thought just made everything worse. Here he was being nice to me after I'd been a drama queen and for the encore, I was crying.  
He didn't understand though and I couldn't explain it to him. I couldn't tell him that the only therapy they thought might help me would mean I absolutely couldn't sign or write him notes at all. Or that I might not even be here in the fall and that it was my fault. I wanted him to know that my dad had quit his cushy, stable job to move my family closer to the best hospital in Chicago because of my stroke, and that we'd moved over and over when those jobs fizzled out, all because of me. I wanted to tell him that he was the first friend I'd had in years and that I thought he was beautiful and sexy as hell, and that I wanted him to kiss me so badly I could barely stand it sometimes. That when he talked I watched his lips move and sometimes forgot to listen to his actual words. I wanted him to know that I was scared to get closer and make plans because my future was out of my hands and it wasn't exactly bright.  
"Mitchy? Whatever it is, it'll be okay. I know I can't fix things but I'll be here."  
I managed to dry my face and stop the stupid waterfall. Crying didn't help anything. I stood and tried to wipe off the back of my pants, silently berating myself for sitting on the ground. Why?  
"Why what Mitch? Why will I be here?"  
A quick, shy nod.  
"Because I want to be. You're my friend, and well.. maybe, I mean, if you want to.... um, more than that?"  
I stared as I ran his words back through my head.  
"But only if you want! No pressure, please. I mean, it's just that you're really cute, and sweet, and I care about you and... Mitch?" he asked, obviously nervous.  
I didn't know what to do. I felt frozen, but my heart was beating so hard I thought I might pass out.  
"Oh my god, are you having a stroke?" he asked, gripping my shoulders, his eyes wild.  
I lifted my arms above my head to make sure I could. I could understand him, and move. No, no I wasn't. I smacked him in the arm for scaring me and gave him a nasty look.  
"Don't SCARE me like that!" he practically yelled.  
And maybe it was just because I was on emotional overload, but the look on his face was hysterical. I laughed, then kept on laughing. By the time I stopped he was leaning on a tree staring at me like I had grown an extra head and I wasn't sure if I was still laughing or if I had transitioned back into crying.  
"Are you finished now?"  
No, no I wasn't. I walked over to him and since he was leaning against the tree, trying to look all cool, he was at my height. I kissed him quickly, on those lips I'd been staring at for weeks, then ran as fast as I could back to my house. I ran in the front door then took the stairs two at a time. I tossed his bag down the stairs and locked my door, burying myself under my blankets. What the hell had I just done?

 

 

He didn't come upstairs. It's all I thought about for the next half hour, then hour. The sky finally faded to orange and I couldn't take it anymore. I peeked out my door, then down the stairs and saw his bag laying at the bottom. Somehow it looked very sad and distraught on it's side against the wall where it had landed.  
I couldn't leave things like this, it wasn't fair. He was probably at home because who in their right mind would want to come over here after I'd.... well.... there really aren't words. I grabbed his bag and headed towards his place before I got smart and texted him. If he wasn't home for some reason, his parents would be really confused as to why he wasn't at my place and they'd already had a lot of excitement tonight. Then I'd have to explain things and would end up with a hand cramp, at the very least. He probably decided to stay over at someone else's place that night, it made his life simpler. It worried me that he hadn't bothered to grab his bag though.  
Mitch: Where r u?  
Scott: Me? I didn't go anywhere. Why?  
Mitch: I brought ur bag, thought u might need it. I'm sorry.  
Scott: Sorry for what?  
Mitch: For literally every single thing that happened tonight?  
There was no way he was really still standing by that tree, right? But he said he didn't go anywhere. I turned down the path and saw his long shadow almost immediately.  
"Thanks for this" he said, slipping his bag off my shoulder. "So I guess that means you want me to go home? Any chance you want to tell me what that kiss was for? Because I've been standing here an hour and I still can't figure it out. Was it some consolation kiss or something, a 'hey you're sweet I guess but I'm not into you so here's your pity kiss - now leave me alone?' type of thing or a 'I've never kissed anyone and I'm a fucking emotional wreck so I'm gonna run away like a scaredy cat' thing?" he asked as I turned a deeper and deeper shade of red. "Because if it's the first, I should take my bag, say thanks, and go. Right? But if it's the second, which I kinda think it is, or maybe I just really HOPE it is, I should do this."   
I was so busy trying to not look into his eyes or melt into the ground in embarrassment that the soft fluttering of his fingertips on my cheek made me jump. My head shot up and I barely had time to take a quick breath before his lips were on mine. He didn't pull back and run away like an imbecile though, he kissed me. Like a REAL kiss. A movie worthy kiss. And when he pulled back and smiled down at me, the corners of my mouth shot upwards without a second thought.  
"So the second one was right? Was that okay? That I kissed you?"  
I nodded, then traced my lips with my fingertip.  
"God that's cute. Can I kiss you again?"  
I wasn't nearly as hesitant this time, I tilted my head up and met him halfway, even if I still had no idea what I was doing. When I opened my eyes I was a bit alarmed by how dark the sky had become and yet again Scott read my mind.  
"We should go in. Want me to walk you home?"  
We fell into step, my hand in his until we cleared the woods and reached the end of the neighbors privacy fence. When we reached my porch, I grabbed for his bag, hoping he would understand.  
"Is that an offer or did you forget to put something back inside when you snooped through it earlier and you want to cover your tracks?"  
I squinted up my eyes and pouted a bit, shaking my head.  
"I was kidding. If you want to see my underwear, you can just ask."  
I hated that he got so much amusement out of driving me crazy. I tried to relax my face and wipe off some of the emotion but knowing him, he'd just take it as a challenge.  
"You're so funny. So, seriously, where am I sleeping tonight? Believe it or not, it's been a long day and I'd really like to relax and lay around on my ass. Can we watch a movie?"  
I pointed up towards my room and nodded.  
"Do you have popcorn? Because I have popcorn at home and it's a deal breaker after the day I've had. I'm going to require my own bowl. A big bowl. And a blanket. Those are my demands."  
I chuckled, because he was trying so hard to be serious but failing miserably. I crooked my finger a few times, then went inside and into the kitchen.  
"Hey boys, you been getting into trouble? Mitch is a wild one Scott, don't let him drag you down" my mom joked as she ruffled my hair. I hated it, but eh, there are worse things.  
I grabbed the pen and pad that were a fixture on our table and wrote Popcorn? Two bags?  
"Hungry are you? Going to watch a movie? Go on, I'll bring it out to you in a few minutes. Want some soda?"  
"Water for me please Mrs. G" Scott said and I signed 'same'  
I turned into the hallway and then stopped at the stairs, motioning Scott to follow me. I grabbed my pajamas and showed them to Scott, then pointed to his bag.  
"Got it. Can I change here or should I go in the bathroom?" he asked, oddly unsure of himself.  
I pointed to the door, there was NO way I was getting naked with him in the room. Was he CRAZY?

 

 

I rushed down to the living room as soon as I had changed, then built myself a pillow and blanket fort in the corner of the couch. Scott laughed when he saw it before taking up the remaining two-thirds of the couch and balancing a bowl of popcorn on his stomach. My parents said 'good night' not much later, and about halfway through the movie I finally relaxed.  
Scott's commentary throughout the movie cracked me up. I would usually nod even though he wasn't really paying attention but when he finally blurted out something completely off the wall, I hit him with one of my pillows. I shouldn't have, I know that now, but I did it.  
He grabbed it out of my hands and turned towards me, his eyes gleaming the most wicked look I'd ever seen directed at me. "Oh THAT's how it is? Hmm? You're in for it Grassi!"  
I grabbed the large one I'd been using as a wall and tried to turn it into a shield which actually worked fairly well to lessen the barrage. He gave up after four or five hits and I thought he had retreated.  
"Time to storm the castle!"  
He was like a side-seeking missile and his long arms meant I had no chance of hiding. He tickled me mercilessly while I tried to be polite, then I gave up and got my legs involved. I really didn't care at that point if I gave him a black eye or he fell off the couch; I just wanted it to stop. He pinned one of my legs down and still had one hand to go at me. I was gasping for air and hating him with every fiber of my being when my brain decided to fire and try to stay 'stop'. I sounded mostly like a seal as I barked out 'Aah -- Op -- Sop!' but he did.  
"You talked" he said breathlessly, sitting back up.  
I tried to hide behind a pillow but he yanked it away from me.  
I shook my head no because I hadn't. That doesn't count. Anything the mother of a toddler wouldn't understand doesn't count. It wasn't good enough.  
"Please say it again?"  
I pointed at the TV, silently begging him to drop the subject and watch the rest of the movie. He was just staring at me though, I could see him out of the corner of my eye.  
"Well I hope you will again, if you ever want. I don't see why you're embarrassed about it. I'm not a doctor, Mitch, but how are you going to get better if you don't try?"  
Don't TRY? Who the fuck did he think he was? I glared at him with the heat of a thousand suns and slowly raised my middle finger.  
"Sorry, you're right. That was way out of line. I'll keep my mouth shut. Forgive me?"  
At least he had the decency to look sorry and apologize. I signed 'fine' and he smiled, then turned back towards the screen.  
"But I'm just saying that if you ever do need someone to practice with or want to say something to help me understand or whatever, well, don't feel embarrassed if it's not perfect, okay? I'm dropping it now."  
Thank God.  
"Because anyone who is brave enough to kiss me wouldn't be scared of something like that? Right?"  
How in any sense of the word is this 'dropping it'? I smacked him with a pillow and pointed at the screen.  
"I AM watching the movie. But fine, fine."  
That time, he did finally let it die. We watched the rest of the movie in relative peace although I was probably still raising the temperature of the entire town with my blush and embarrassment. Oh well, it was over and at least it was fairly dark so he couldn't see me.   
As soon as the credits started rolling, I realized that I had a MUCH bigger problem than making a fool of myself by talking. I had invited him to spend the night before anything had happened. As just friends. Everything had changed today though; now the thought of being alone with him in my room was scary as hell. I mean I didn't expect him to expect anything, but sleeping arrangements? Um, I hadn't really thought about it before, honestly.  
We ended up in my room just staring at each other. I reached for my handy notepad. Where do you want to sleep?  
"Wherever."  
Well where do you normally sleep with guys you've kissed?  
"The ones who run away or the ones I get all hot and heavy with?"  
I raised one finger.  
"Nowhere. I've never kissed a boy and I haven't had a sleepover in years, except at my Uncle Jimmy's when our power went out two years ago and it was like 110 degrees."  
I had a really hard time believing him and the look on my face must have matched my emotions because he did the whole 'cross my heart' thing. I had no idea what to do but I just got into bed and scooted way over against the wall. The rest was up to him. Today had felt a week long. School felt like days ago and so much had happened tonight that I really had no idea how to process it. I faked sleep for a long time, long after he had crawled into bed with me and his breathing had slowed.

 

I woke up staring at Scott's shoulder. His bare shoulder. It was nice. The expression on his face wasn't so happy though.  
"Good morning Mitch."  
I wiggled my hand free and waved like a dork.  
"I woke up a little while ago and I've been thinking about something. Can I run it by you?"  
I nodded, really unprepared for whatever was coming my way. So much had happened yesterday that I had no idea what was on his mind. I tried to force my brain to wake up but knew it wasn't going to help much.  
"When I tickled you last night you really couldn't tell me no. I'm sorry. You didn't want to be tickled and I knew that, and I didn't stop until you said something and I realized about 20 minutes ago that you can't always tell me no. I mean, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you without you being able to tell me not to and I should have stopped way before I did and I'm really mad at myself. I won't do it again, okay? Do you hate me?"  
I signed 'I'm fine' and then reached for my pad. I couldn't reach it though, over Mr. Shoulders, so he handed it to me. I lifted my pen and then realized I had no idea what to say. I wasn't mad about what he seemed so worried about; it hadn't really crossed my mind. But now that he mentioned it, it was kind of a problem, maybe. It could certainly become one in the future anyway if we actually had some sort of relationship. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself. I had no idea what to say.  
I don't like being tickled but it was fine. Don't feel bad.   
"I do feel bad. We need some sign -- hey what's 'no'? Can you teach me that and then I'll know what's okay and what's not?"  
I signed 'fine', smiled, then signed 'no'.   
"It looks like a duck. Quack, quack" he said, moving his hand around until his duck nibbled my hair.  
I buried my head towards his chest, then pulled myself back and tucked some blanket between us. He grabbed my notepad and wrote me a note. It was cute, although I didn't know why he was bothering to not talk.  
'Getting tired of me yet? Want me to go?' he wrote.  
I shook my head 'no' but he handed me the pen and motioned for me to write. You can stay but I have to pee. Can you get up?  
I'm comfortable. Go over.  
No. You're the fucking Himalayas. Move Scott.  
He signed fine and slowly raised all 8 feet of himself to a standing position. Wow he was tall from down here. I practically jumped out of bed and raced out of my room. When I got back he had clothes on although he was still lounging on my bed. I wasn't sure whether or not to be relieved about the fact that he was now wearing a shirt. He walked past me and I assumed he was going to the bathroom. I sat down and saw the notepad, then smiled.  
Going to brush my nasty teeth. I need food soon. Brunch at my house? You can be my buffer to make sure they don't have the film crew of 'Intervention' waiting for me.  
I wondered if he was really worried about that. I decided that a small part of him had to be worried, not necessarily about a film crew, but about his reception. Maybe he worried that his parents had talked all night or would change their tune once they'd slept on it? Either way, I was happy to go with him. I'm in. Give me half an hour to shower. Why aren't you talking? Writing sucks.  
I pointed at the notepad and then left as soon as he was back. I tried to hurry but showers take time; there are things that need taken care of. He wasn't in the room when I came back and I checked the notepad.  
Half an HOUR? Are you crazy? You get 5 minutes and then I'm raiding your fridge. Not talking because it seems more fair. I'm sure I'll get tired of this soon, it feels like being in school.  
I headed downstairs and sure enough, he had a Poptart in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. I raised my eyebrows.  
"What? Want one?"  
I shook my head 'no' and chuckled.  
"Ready?" he asked, grabbing an apple.   
I was more than ready. My mom had left a note that she was at the grocery store so I texted her real quick asking for more Poptarts and a bag of cool ranch Doritos and told her I was heading to Scott's. It was a fairly quiet walk while he munched on his apple. I didn't mind at all; it was really nice just being with him. The sky was a gorgeous deep, bright blue with just a few small clouds for interest. We passed the house with the fish mailbox, our designated 'midway' point, and turned the corner. He slowed then before coming to a complete stop about two houses up from his. 'You Ok'? I signed.  
"Yeah, fine. I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? It's going to be fine."  
I reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He readjusted his bag, positioning it higher on his shoulder, then headed for home.

 

 

Brunch went fine. Scott turned back into his normal cheesy, smiling self within 10 minutes of being home. The mountain of pancakes and half pound of bacon didn't hurt anything either. I'm not gonna lie, I ate plenty myself, too.  
The only thing that worried me was that Connie knew about me. She didn't say anything, but I just knew. I guess when Scott came out, she sort of figured out why we'd become such fast friends. I guess it's possible he told her, but I didn't think he would do that. But still, there wasn't a single doubt in my mind that she knew and that was scary. If I could have pulled her to the side and talked with her about it, I would have. Instead I chewed my bacon thoroughly and just let my worry fester.  
School was rough I have to admit. It was one of those weeks where everything hits you at once. I had not only two tests sprung on me almost last minute, but also a new English assignment. The class was going to debate current issues in class on Friday. Since I couldn't participate, I got to write a 10-page paper doing both the pros and cons of an issue. It wasn't fair at all but I couldn't exactly argue with the teacher about it. The only good side was that I got to pick my issue. There is ONE good thing about switching schools so often; I had done something similar for an English class in Virginia last fall. I needed to dig up my paper on Transgender Rights and see if I could rework it. The public restroom issue was pretty hot at the moment, and I had done a lot of research on it already. I knew I had kept the paper and hopefully I still had my notes too; yay for being a packrat.  
Between studying, writing, and speech therapy, my afternoons were pretty full. Scott had signed up for the spring play and had rehearsal Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons so we ended up seeing very little of each other that week. I saw him in the mornings on the way to school and a little during choir and everything was fine, but I missed him.  
Friday afternoon I pretty much dropped my bag at the foot of the stairs and then barely managed to make it up and into my room before collapsing on my bed. I was SO done. I hadn't needed a weekend this badly in months. I realized, sadly, that this was the first weekend in awhile that Scott and I hadn't even made plans. He was still at rehearsal but I promised myself that I would text him as soon as 5:00 rolled around. And then I fell asleep. I didn't even roll over or get under the blankets and was completely out until my phone chirped.  
Scott: Want to watch a movie or something?  
Scott: It's not late yet.   
Scott: Or tomorrow?  
Scott: My place.  
Scott: Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch!!!!!!  
Scott: Where ARE you?  
Scott: That's it, I'm coming over.  
Scott: Really? I'm tired, can you come over here?  
Scott: Mitch!  
Mitch: Hold on. Sleeping.  
Mitch: What time is it?  
Scott: tfw your life is slipping away sleepyhead. You're on your phone! 7:14  
Mitch: Crap no wonder I'm hungry. Let me find a parent. Two mins.  
Mitch: Ok, gonna eat real quick. Should I bring clothes and stuff?  
Scott: No, we'll talk about that. You have to go back home :(  
Mitch: Alright. Be there soon.  
Scott: Yay! :)  
Why did I end up with a ginormous cheesy smile on my face every time we talked? I went downstairs and thanked my mom for the plate she'd reheated for me.  
"You were out like a light Mitch, I thought you needed your sleep. You've had a rough week, haven't you?"  
I nodded while shoveling food into my mouth.  
"Staying at Scott's?" she asked.  
No.  
"Well maybe that's for the best, really. You can use some sleep. Don't be gone too late, okay? Text me when you're on the way home so I'll know when to expect you?"  
I nodded, although really, what was she going to do if I took an extra 5 minutes walking home? Come looking for me with a baseball bat and pepper spray? It was all good though, it made her feel better.  
"Don't forget that your aunt and uncle are visiting tomorrow."  
I stopped mid-chew. Shit. I had forgotten, or rather I'd completely ignored it and hoped it would go away. My uncle Steve and aunt Mary were AWFUL human beings. Mom must have known what was going through my head.  
"We're all going to dinner together. If you have a LOT of school work and need to be at Scott's for some of the afternoon to work on it, that's fine. But dinner is required. Okay?"  
I knew it was as good as she could do. I nodded my thanks, then put my plate and fork in the dishwasher.  
"Have fun dear."  
I sighed. I'd thought I was done. I made it through two tests and a paper at school only to be faced with uncle Steve tomorrow. This week just would NOT quit. But, on the bright side, I was headed to Scott's. He had a TV in his room so we'd be away from prying eyes and could hold hands and whatever else. Hopefully I'd get a kiss or two..... or 20.

 

 

I put tomorrows upcoming misery out of mind as I passed the fish mailbox. Soon I was knocking on his door, then opening it when I heard him bellow 'come in!'. His parents were on the couch and I waved, then headed towards Scott who was waiting for me on the stairs.  
"Scott?" his mother called. "Mitch, why don't you go into the kitchen and get yourself something to drink? Give us just a moment?"  
I nodded and did as she asked, but I knew something was up. I got a bottle of water, then waited until the voices had died down and Scott poked his head around the doorway.  
"It's safe, come on out." He looked up the stairs, then said quietly "We have to watch down here, okay?"  
'Fine?' I signed, my eyebrows raised.  
"Yeah, yeah, it's just.... um, sit down?" Once we were comfortable, he cleared his throat. "It's like this. They're okay with me and everything, but uh, because I like boys, you're not allowed to spend the night. And I guess they just don't want us alone in my room much. They said if you were a girl they wouldn't have let me two weeks ago, so.... I mean I guess I get it. Don't look sad, it is absolutely NOT about you, okay? It's just them wanting to be proper and.... I'm sorry. Mitch?"  
'Fine'  
"No, not ok. You're not ok. Tell me what's wrong, please. Do you have your pad? Where's your notepad?" he rattled off. "I told them we'd leave the door open but they're just nervous, I guess. I'll talk to them, okay? I just don't feel like I can make any demands right now. They've been really good about things and I don't want to rock the boat."  
I pulled it out of my pocket. It's fine, I get it. I guess. I just miss you.  
"Want to take a walk? We have at least 12 minutes of daylight left" he offered.  
Yes. No. 'No'. I pointed to the screen, hoping he'd turn the TV on and we could drop this whole thing. I had no idea how to act or what to do. We'd been so distant and 'normal' all week, I hadn't even gotten a chance to hold his hand or give him a quick peck. And now we were trapped on his parents couch and given Scott's explanation, one of them would probably be walking through every 15 minutes like clockwork to make sure we weren't making out or sitting too close.   
I sighed although I really didn't mean to. He seemed to be okay with it though so maybe 'us' was all in my imagination and it wasn't anything? Maybe I was making way too much out of a kiss. Several kisses. Some really good kisses. It's not like we were boyfriends or anything, right? Hell, we hadn't even talked about that, or anything, all week. I shouldn't have been disappointed, but I was. What the hell had I been thinking? I was me and should count my lucky stars that he even wanted to be friends.  
"I'm not starting this movie, even though I REALLY want to, until words appear on that paper."  
I looked up, realizing that I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn't even noticed him staring at me. He had even put the remote down; boy was serious. I picked up my pen and it hovered over the pad. Then, instead, I grabbed my phone. It was easier to delete this way and I didn't want anyone else to ever see what I was going to write. Besides, autofill was a wonderful thing.  
I like you. A lot. Too much maybe. And it's not fair to you to have to be the subject of my fucking boyhood dreams but I didn't realize how lonely I was until I met you and I feel like things are so close but I just can't reach them.  
"Keep going, please."  
You have your own life that you had way before I just magically appeared in your choir room last month and I know I've kind of hijacked it and I'm sorry. Do you want me to go?  
"No. No Mitch, I don't. More, tell me more."  
I don't know why you put up with me, with my stupid overzealous clotting blood and mega-stroke and aphasia and shit. And maybe you were right, I'm not trying enough. My new therapist wants me to try a new therapy too, the same one Mrs. Maldonado does but it's hard and scary and I'm not sure I'm strong enough for it.  
"I put up with you because you're amazing. It's why you put up with me, right? What therapy? What do you have to do? This is the most you've ever talked to me."  
It takes forever to write. Sorry. I have to not sign or write or gesture or anything. Nothing but sounds. For weeks, months, until my brain clicks over. Or until Glinda visits and grants me a wish, whatever. I'll sound stupid and it'll be so embarrassing and   
The thought that popped into my head scared even me. It was the truth, the kernel that I had been protecting. The answer.   
I'm already so cut off from everyone and I'll be all alone. More alone. Hard to imagine. I can't do it. No one will want to put up with me.  
He didn't say anything, just pulled me into a hug.

 

I was surprised when he got up and slipped into his shoes to walk home with me. If I'd been able to speak without thinking, I would have automatically said 'you don't need to walk me home' but this was one time when I was glad that I couldn't just spit out words I didn't mean. I would probably never talk again but if I did, I would be careful with them. People use words so carelessly and it causes nothing but trouble and annoyance. If I ever had the chance again I would choose mine instead of letting them spill out of my mouth.  
I followed him out the door but he turned the opposite direction. I didn't care though, he knew where he was going and I trusted him. If he wanted to walk the long way he could. Besides, he probably had a lot on his mind although I wasn't sure if he was going to share or just use the time to think. As rough as my week had been, his must have been just as hard, if not worse. I couldn't even imagine coming out to my parents and I hated myself a little bit for how difficult I'd made things last weekend. Then, I'd practically ignored the situation all week, and even tonight I'd been upset about how he handled things. I needed to chill the hell out and relax about it.  
"Can I hold your hand?"  
Of course he could. I latched onto his, lacing my fingers just right. Perfect.  
"Thanks. I wouldn't want to fall, it's sort of dark out here."  
He was such a dork and cracked me up. I leaned my head against his shoulder for just a second.  
"I feel much safer now. Mitch?"  
I wasn't sure what he was expecting, so I just squeezed his hand.  
"This is going to sound crazy, but sometimes I feel like you're a childhood imaginary friend. I think it's the not answering me thing. Sorry, was that rude? I didn't mean it that way. Please don't pull me into the woods and beat me up, I'll change the subject. Look, I sort of got the impression from a few things you've said that you're not sure about me. I mean if I like you and how much. Know what I mean? And I remember you saying you didn't have friends at your last school, at any of them, right? So I get that you're scared. I'm scared of stuff and have no reason to be and you HAVE a reason so I'm not gonna try to figure out how much more scary that is or I won't be able to sleep tonight. Did that make any sense? God, how do teachers do it?"  
I laughed then, even though he was really trying to be serious. I couldn't help it. An image of Scott in front of a classroom and me sitting at a desk filled my mind and it was funny, because I was in one of those tiny elementary school desks and he was wearing one of those tweed jackets with the leather elbow patches and basketball shorts. That was it, we were BOTH going to have weird dreams tonight.  
"I'm not going anywhere Mitch. I like you, a lot. And I'm going to go out on a limb here and tell you this now because you can't really stop me and I know that's shitty but you're not going to want to hear it but I have to say it. And then I'll drop it and you can make the decision because it really is YOUR choice. Okay? So the new therapy? I think you should try it. I'll still be here Mitch. I promise! We can watch movies and walk to school and go play mini-golf and do LOTS of things. I'll help any way I can. I feel like I know you pretty well and I'll try to make sure you're okay and Mitch, you don't need to be embarrassed in front of me. Did I laugh before? Did I make you feel bad? I was so damn excited last week when you talked and I think you should try. There, that's it. Okay? It's just that, well, what if it works? What if it works Mitch?"  
I pulled my hand out of his but I wasn't mad. Not really. I pulled out my phone. What if it doesn't?  
"Then it doesn't."  
And I'm out of options  
"Oh. It's like in the movies where the guy is huddled in the corner with one last bullet in his gun?"  
I slid my phone back into my pocket and turned, surprised that I recognized my neighbors fence. I wasn't sure how we'd gotten here but I had very fond memories of this fence.  
"I shouldn't be gone too long, my parents will worry. But uh, can I kiss you first?"  
I answered him with a kiss that ended up with Scott's back pressed against that solid wood and me considering taking up mountain climbing. I untangled myself, feeling a bit guilty for being so forward.  
"Damn Mitch, one more?"  
One turned into two, or maybe even three. Eventually we parted, lightheaded and happy. I started to sing softly as I rounded the corner towards my house. Queen Bey was classic, and I knew this song like the back of my hand. I slowed it down a lot, it fit my mood better.  
I look and stare so deep in your eyes,  
I touch on you more and more every time,  
When you leave I'm begging you not to go,  
Call your name two or three times in a row  
Very faintly I heard Scott join in until his voice faded away. Only then did I head inside, a smile plastered on my face and a feeling that maybe, just maybe, I would be okay.


	2. Part Two

I had managed to put them so far out of my mind that I was surprised to see Uncle Steve and Aunt Mary in the kitchen when I went down the next morning, or actually, afternoon. My eyes were barely open and I hadn't even bothered to get dressed so I was absolutely mortified. I waved, then turned tail and practically ran back upstairs.  
"God he's weird" I heard Steve say before I slammed my door.  
I was sure my mom was giving him a nasty look and my dad wasn't happy either, but it only softened the sting a little bit. Granted, he was right but he didn't have to be so vocal about it. I groaned at my own joke then grabbed clothes and dove into the shower. The first thing I did once I was clean and dressed was text Scott. I needed OUT of here.  
Mitch: Please tell me I can come over or we can go somewhere? I have relatives here and they're monsters.  
I paced my room, checking my phone every 26 seconds even though it hadn't chirped. Steve's loud, honking laugh wafted upstairs and I decided that anywhere was better than here. I typed a quick text to my mom as I grabbed my book bag and headed out the front door. I walked back behind the famous fence, skimming its surface with my fingertips. I wasn't sure where I was going until I saw the path through the trees; it was perfect. I headed towards the river, planning to climb the rock and do some reading until Scott answered me.  
"I hope that's you and not a bear" Scott said, peering down at me from the rock. "Definitely not a bear. More of an otter. A cute otter. What are you doing here?"  
I handed him my bag and then let him help me up. Same question I typed.  
"It's a nice day and I don't know, I just wanted to come down. My place is a little stressful, or maybe I'm just stressed and needed some space. Buildings feel really small sometimes, you know?"  
Do you want to be alone? You didn't answer. Sorry if I'm interrupting.  
"No, I'm glad you're here. Answer what?" he asked, looking for his phone. "Shit, I don't have it. You messaged me? I'm not ignoring you, promise." He reached for my hand and I rested my head on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"  
Better now I typed one-handed.  
"Good. Your hair's still wet, did you just get up?"  
I nodded gently. House is overrun with hellish aunt and uncle. Have to do dinner later. Sucks. My stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly enough to scare off every animal in the forest. Hopefully.  
"I have a granola bar in my bag, one sec."   
He handed it over and although it was rather squished, it was the best thing I'd ever eaten. Thanks.  
"Anytime. So when is dinner? Want to hang out until then?"  
6:30 and please  
"Well I got here an hour ago and my ass is officially numb. Let's go." He stood and climbed down, then threw my bag over his shoulder. "My place? SpongeBob marathon?"  
I nodded and followed along happily until he stopped in his tracks.   
"Shit, I can't. I have a haircut appointment at 3 and mom is taking me shopping. My pants don't quite reach my ankles anymore. Hey, want to come? I have to ask her, but I'll ask if you want to come. What time is it?"  
2:16. I'll come if its okay. As long as I'm back by 6:30.  
"We should be back in plenty of time, let's go ask."  
Not fifteen feet from his house I reconsidered. He was already stressed and probably really didn't need me hanging Harassment all over my message board with him and his mom during what she probably considered 'bonding time.' I didn't want to go home, but having Connie stare at me and think who-knows-what didn't sound all that great either. I stopped him, then freed two hands so I could be quick. Wait never mind. I'll stay here. Good luck with the pants.  
"Are you sure? Why?" he asked, squinting his eyes as if he'd be able to see me better.   
Yes. I looked left and right, then gave him a quick kiss before turning and running home. It wasn't until halfway there that I realized that he still had my bag. Now what? I needed it, especially if I was going to stay out of the house for hours. I turned back around, tired of running in circles. All I did was exhaust myself and end up nowhere. Maybe it was time to try to move forward. Maybe it was time to talk to Mrs. Maldonado.   
He met me under the exact same tree I'd left him under. He was good at waiting for me and it meant a lot, probably more than I wanted to admit even to myself. He had a shit-eating grin on his face and held my bag out towards me.  
"Forget something? Although if you were going to forget something, I'm glad it wasn't my kiss." His face fell a bit, he was so good at reading me. "I'm a little worried about you."  
'Fine'  
"If you don't want to talk about it, I won't push. Text me tonight and tell me how dinner went?"  
I nodded, then managed to put a smile on my face. I waved good-bye and then headed back home. I was starving and there was no way I would make it until dinner. I was just going to have to face them.

 

 

I snuck in the back door and opened the fridge, glad that I had gone undetected so far.  
"Wasn't expecting to see you back so soon" mom almost whispered.  
'Hungry' I signed, then gave up on the refrigerator and opened the snack cabinet. How could nothing look good when I was practically starving to death? I heard his steps just before his large form took up most of the doorway.  
"Well if it isn't Mitch. What is he slinking around for?" Uncle Steve asked.  
"He's not slinking, he's getting something to eat. You know how teenage boys are, they're always hungry" my mom answered, trying to deflect.   
"Well why doesn't he come on out here with the family? What's the point of keeping him at home if you're just going to let him hide out all the time?"  
There was one, exactly ONE good thing about my uncle. He never spoke to me. It meant that I didn't have to look at him when he said stupid shit like that or even worse, try to formulate some sort of answer. I didn't have to TRY to be polite which was good, because it was just about impossible. I wasn't sure how my mom did it, honestly. I had no doubt that she would be having several drinks at dinner though and I didn't blame her one bit. I just wished she would share one with me.   
"He has a lot of studying to do Steve, it's not easy changing schools during the year. He's going to go upstairs and study until dinner, right Mitch?" She had been working magic while I stared into the abyss of the cabinet and handed me a pb&j sandwich. "Here you go honey. Good luck."  
My uncle started up again as soon as I hit the stairs. "Still can't figure out how you manage to get him enrolled in normal schools, Nel. Why do they take him? They can't be equipped to handle people like...." Luckily it faded out once I shut my door.  
I was going to have to listen to it at dinner, but I didn't now. I put my headphones on and sent Scott a quick text.  
Mitch: Made it to my room alive. Have food. How's the haircut?  
He answered me about five minutes later.  
Scott: Skipped it, well just a trim. Gonna let it get longer and see what happens. Mom found friends and they're gabbing. Maybe she'll forget about shopping.  
Mitch: Doubt it Mr. Capri pants  
Scott: Ha Ha Ha you are SO funny. They're not THAT short, I just pull them down a lot. Gonna start flashing people soon though, it's getting dangerous.  
Mitch: I'm not sure what to do with that mental image. Brain overload.  
Scott: Says the shorty who doesn't have to worry about it. Oh we're going ttyl.  
I opened up my history book and tried to finish a chapter, then gave up and opened my music folder and played my recordings of Scott as I tried to memorize more of it. Then, after I'd run through the two songs I knew pretty well I started work on the third one. It was easier than the others and I didn't have any trouble picking it up. Before I knew it, mom was knocking on my door and peeking in.  
"Time for dinner Mitch, we're leaving in 10 minutes."  
I made a face.  
"I know. Me too sweetie."  
At least I had her on my side. My dad didn't put up with Steve making too many remarks either, but my uncle knew that and didn't say much in front of him. That led to dad thinking that mom and I overreacted. Besides, Steve was his brother so he was a little blind to his obnoxiousness. I didn't blame him for that, really.   
I gave a little prayer of thanks that I hadn't seen aunt Mary yet. I could make it through dinner, probably, as long as I didn't have to sit next to her. Last year when we'd visited, that crazy woman had actually refused to give me a knife and had CUT my food for me before serving me on my own divided, plastic plate. Then she tried to FEED me like an infant. I know that some stroke victims need help, and I'm sure they would maybe be grateful for it, but I'm fine. Yes, my right side had been very weak for about 6 months after my stroke but luckily I'm left-handed. Now no one could really tell. I could handle things just fine, thankyouverymuch. Her coddling and pity-party were almost worse than my uncle thinking I should be locked away in some sort of group home or hospital. Almost.  
I made a quick run to the bathroom, then checked my teeth and hair before walking down the stairs as slowly as possible. I stopped when my phone chirped.  
Scott: Praise Levi, only two stores. Done and home.  
Scott: SpongeBob tonight? Come over after dinner.  
Mitch: Yes! If I don't get arrested during dinner.  
Scott: Gonna be that bad? You can pick the first episode.  
Mitch: Deal  
"Mitch! Let's go!" my dad called and I tucked my phone away. Show time.

 

 

I stormed out of the restaurant and went to wait in the car.  I was LIVID and refused to sit and listen to them throw out any more ideas of how to 'fix' me, or ask if my parents had noticed any other 'weird' behavior, or if they were worried I would become a psychopath.  Seriously, aunt Mary actually asked my mother if she felt she could trust me.  What the hell does that even mean?  Like I'm going to murder them in my sleep?    
And then the whole 'who will take care of him once you're gone' conversation was really the last straw.  I couldn't sit through one more minute of that dinner, cheesecake for dessert or not.  What if I DID need permanent help?  What was it to them?  My parents would have moved mountains to get me any care I needed but luckily I didn't need it.  Yet.  As if I didn't worry about having another stroke and getting worse?  Who did they think they were?  
Mom tried to talk to me on the way home but I just kept my headphones on and locked myself in my room once we were back.  My aunt and uncle were following right behind us and there was NO way I was going to venture back downstairs until they had left.  The state.  I was good at hiding and waiting; they had to go back to their hotel sometime.  
After awhile I changed into my pj's and tried to get some sleep.  This day had been pretty much a huge bust and I figured that the sooner it was over, the better.  I was just getting relaxed when I heard the doorbell.  I was awake then, and cracked my door open to see if I could hear anything.  Scott's deep baritone drifted upstairs and I sat up, then quickly slipped a shirt on.  I couldn't go down there, but I couldn't leave him with them either.  Granted, Scott was pretty much a freak who got along with adults, so maybe he would be okay?  I crept into the hallway and perched at the top of the stairs.  
"I don't understand the question, Sir.  He helps me a lot more than I help him.  We don't have many classes together, but he helped me pass the last math test.  I definitely wouldn't have scored a high B without him" I heard Scott say but his voice wasn't melodic and chipper like I was used to, it was lower and almost... angry?  
I couldn't quite make out who was talking, my mother and aunt Mary had very similar, quiet voices.  
"How is it KIND of me?" Scott asked.  
Must have been Mary; this was not going so well.  I had to cross my fingers and pray that my mom would save him and send him upstairs.  Quickly.  
My uncle's voice rang out but I only caught about half of it.  Something about volunteer work?  Or college?  
"No one!  Are you really asking me that?  I don't mean to be rude Sir, but are we talking about the same Mitch?  Because the one I know is great.  He's funny and kind and absolutely amazing."  
A woman's voice, then a pause.  
"We communicate just fine.  If you'll excuse me?" and then I heard Scott's footsteps.    
I jumped up and made it back into my room without being seen.  When he knocked I opened the door and pretended that I hadn't heard anything.  I never claimed to be mature.  
"You didn't answer your phone.  Are you okay?  I was just worried" he said, running his hand through his hair nervously "and after talking to those, your, um, THEM, I get it.  Are you okay?"  
I let him in, obviously, but wasn't sure how to answer.  I wasn't really fine but I sure as hell didn't want to talk about it.  'Fine.  Sorry.'  
"What's that second one?  The circle on your chest?"  
I grabbed my phone, realizing sadly that it was dead, then threw it onto the bed and grabbed my notepad.  Sorry  
"No problem.  What was it?"  
Sorry you dumbass.  "Sorry"  I guess it wasn't really clear, maybe the quotes would help.  
"Oh, the sign is sorry.  Got it.  So obviously you didn't get my messages because your phone is dead but you were supposed to text me, remember?"  
Dinner sucked, sorry didn't text.  Came back, music then try sleep.  
"You're getting lazy.  It's fine, I get it.  Well, I guess I should go.  I um, I should warn you that your aunt and uncle, and maybe your parents too probably aren't real happy with me.  I really didn't mean to cause you any trouble."  
Didn't.  Don't worry.  I heard the door close and then a car start and looked out my window.  I had never been happier to see a car leave.  I moved closer and he pulled me into a hug.  His arms felt amazing wrapped around me; they were warm and strong but gentle and really comforting all at the same time.  I didn't want it to end but I did want a kiss.  I got it too, and then one more.  
"I really need to go.  Charge your phone and text me tomorrow?"  
I nodded, then watched as he headed down the stairs.  Would I have been brave enough to go check on him if our positions had been reversed?  Probably not.  I had just climbed back into bed when there was a knock on my door.  
"Mitch?" my mother asked.  "We need to talk.  First thing tomorrow, before church.  Okay?"  
I grabbed my flashlight and flicked it on and off towards the bottom of the door so she'd know I heard.  The question was, what in the world was so important?

 

My mom knocked on my door the next morning and came in with hot chocolate and two donuts. Maybe it wasn't so bad. I signed 'thanks' and took them from her while she settled into my desk chair.  
"Mitch, I've been thinking about this conversation since last night and I'm still not sure whether or not we should have it. Well that's not true, we should definitely have it but part of me thinks that I should wait for you to come to me when you're ready. There's a nagging feeling in my gut though that you won't for a myriad of reasons" she said, waving her hand through the air "and that worries me. We've always been close and since your stroke I've sometimes felt as if I were your best friend, if not your only one. That's not how things should be, Mitch, and I can't let my fear of upsetting you stop me from being your mother."  
I had the subject list narrowed down to about three and was really, really hoping for anything but the whole gay thing. The 'waiting for me' worried me though. I was hanging by a thread of hope that this had something to do with Steve and Mary? Or maybe the new therapy? Or maybe she just wanted me to join a club? Anything would be better than them finding out. But they couldn't have, right?  
"Honey, is there something you'd like to talk to me about?"  
Me? Uh, oooh, think! This was my out. I needed to distract her. I think try CIT  
She nodded. "Probably a good idea. Your writing has gotten so lazy that it's barely comprehensible at this point. We're behind you 110%. Maybe we need to get Mr. Rodriguez and the SLP from school, what's her name?"  
Mrs. Maldonado  
"Yes, perhaps they should talk and come up with a plan. Want me to go into the office with you before therapy tomorrow and we'll work it out?"  
I nodded.  
"I was hoping you might want to talk about something else Mitch. You probably didn't hear, but Scott got an earful last night when he came to the door. He was pretty angry and didn't do a very good job of hiding it. No, no, don't worry, he was perfectly polite, but it was obvious. He's very defensive of you Mitch and he smiles when he says your name. Have you noticed that? I've had suspicions for a few weeks but last night it sort of jumped out at me. Or I could be wrong."  
I caught myself chewing on my bottom lip. I didn't want to lie but I didn't want to cause any trouble either.  
"I would rather know than not know. Okay? And I understand if you're still working things out, it doesn't seem like an easy thing. Or I don't know, maybe it's easier than it seems. Either way you can talk to me about ANYTHING, alright? I love you Mitch, and I don't want you to worry about this. And if he's just a friend that's fine too. I'm really glad you have Scott now, whatever happens between you two.  It's good for you to make friends and he seems like a wonderful boy."  
I hated the words that I was writing, but I had to say them. Dad would hate me.  
"NO! No he would not Mitch. Oh baby, he... he loves you like crazy. It might take him some time, that's all, but you know he'd do anything for you."  
I shook my head. She was NOT being realistic. That's what she wanted to happen, maybe, but that 'time' she thought he needed was going to be hell in our house for as long as it took him to miraculously change his mind. It's new and I don't know yet.  
"I can certainly understand that. Well you know how I feel. If you ever want to talk about things or have questions or need me, I'm here. Now it's getting late, time for church."  
Can I stay home? Pls? I put my palms together and gave her my best puppy dog eyes, then threw myself back on my bed in mock exhaustion.  
"Have a big test tomorrow?" she asked, winking.  
Two! Don't tell dad about me please?  
"I won't. But once you're sure about things please consider telling him. Give him the benefit of the doubt Mitch, he might surprise you." She stood and pushed my chair back under the desk. "I guess with TWO tests tomorrow, you need all the studying time you can get. For just this week it's fine but please be here and studying when we get home so that your father doesn't question it. Deal?"  
I crossed my heart. 'Thanks'.  
"You're welcome dear, see you in a few hours. Oh, and Mitch, when you take a break from all your hard work and studying, clean this room up."  
I would clean the entire house if it meant staying home from church. It's not like it was all bad, but we were still new so I couldn't remember anyone's names and all the old ladies wanted to tell me about their strokes, or their late-husbands strokes, and every week half the people there forgot I couldn't speak. It was just too much like work. Plus it was EARLY. Who wanted to get up and be there by 9 when you had five days of early alarms staring you in the face? I snuggled back under my blankets and did my best to fall back asleep.

 

 

On Sunday, Scott and I may have set a world record for the number of messages sent. We probably should have called Guinness beforehand so they could keep track. Seriously, it got to the point that we actually told each other when we had to pee so that no one would panic when a response didn't come right away. I didn't get to see him though, which would have been better. While mom and dad were at church I managed to get my room clean and unloaded the dishwasher too. So, all in all, not a bad day.  
All during school on Monday I thought about my afternoon speech therapy session with Mr. Rodriguez. Mom was coming too and we were going to discuss the new therapy. I wanted all the facts before I signed on the dotted line and gave it a shot.  
Choir was the first time that day that I actually managed to focus on something else. I had most of the songs memorized/whatever I did to make things work and was pretty happy with my progress. She'd moved my seat and I was pleased as punch to be up front although it meant being even further away from Scott. When she told us to close our binders 20 minutes before the end of class, I was curious.  
"I know that most of you have been waiting for this since the semester started" Mrs. Clark said. "Time to discuss the State Championship. I have your permission slips here." She handed a stack to one of the sopranos to pass out, then continued. "Just like last year, we'll be spending the night in Houston after the competition and coming back on Sunday. Buses will leave from the gym parking lot at exactly 9:15 am so do NOT be late. I have the sign-ups for rooms, I will post it beside the door right now and give you all a few minutes to sign up before you leave. Anyone who doesn't sign up or gets smart and tries to room with someone of the opposite sex will be assigned a room by me. Understood?"  
Everyone was whispering and talking, sending each other hand signals and pretty much smiling like crazy. Well, the upperclassmen. The freshmen were apparently in for a treat judging by how excited the rest of the class was. I stayed in my seat as people jumped up, wanting to be the first to sign up for rooms. Was there some sort of limit she hadn't mentioned and everyone else had to sleep on the bus? I didn't think so.  
"So, do you already have a roommate or are you free?" Scott asked from behind my shoulder.  
I tried not to move my shoulder up as his breath hit the back of my ear. I turned and smiled.  
"Want to share?"  
Yes.  
He handed me a pencil and I waited in line to do the honors. We'd spent the night together a few times before but now that we couldn't anymore, it seemed huge. Or maybe it was the fact that we wouldn't be 15 feet from our parents that made it daunting. Either way, writing our names on that piece of paper felt big. It felt like a present, or Christmas even, maybe. I was excited and a little nervous. Waiting was going to be torture.   
During history I thought that maybe the trip and hotel stay could be my reward for doing the new CIT therapy. Maybe even if it wasn't working by then I could give myself a break and write/sign with Scott on the trip. It would feel good to have an 'out' coming, something to look forward to.  
On the way outside after the final bell I had a horrible thought; maybe Scott's parents wouldn't let us share a room. I mean, why would they? If they had a problem with it when they were right next door there was NO way they'd let us do it in Houston. I wrote Scott a quick message and sent it to him while I waited on my mom. I didn't expect him to answer until after play rehearsals but he opened it just as he came walking towards me.  
Will your parents let you?  
"I'm going to lie" he whispered. "I'll tell them I'm rooming with Mike or something. Don't worry about it."  
Are you sure about that?  
"Do you not want to?"   
Of course I do !!!  
"Well so do I and what they don't know won't hurt them. Okay? I want to kick ass at States' and then share a room with you. So I will" he answered, smiling. "I have to go. Good luck at therapy."  
'Thank you'  
"Fill me in tonight!" he called, his long legs carrying him towards the auditorium.  
His confidence and optimism was cute. On some people it would have seemed cocky, but not on him. My mom pulled up and I climbed into the car, ready to get this talk with Mr. Rodriguez over with. It was time to find out just how bad it was going to be and what he thought my chances were of it actually working.

 

 

The meeting with Mr. Rodriguez was pretty much what I expected from my reading. He was going to have Mrs. Maldonado handle most of it, especially the preliminary work which he wanted to start oh, two years ago. Lucky me got to spend my 'free' office period, lunch, and an hour after school every day except Tuesday and Friday with her doing my level best to make thoughts turn into sounds. Once school was over in a few weeks, I'd see one of them four hours a day, depending on their schedules. Oh, and did I mention no talking or signing or even gesturing. AT ALL?  
So the next morning I could not have been happier that it was Tuesday. No play rehearsal for Scott or speech therapy for me. It was our one day a week that we were completely free and I was REALLY looking forward to it after yesterday. As soon as the bus had pulled away he knocked his arm into my shoulder.  
"What do you want to do today?" He rearranged his book bag so it would be on his opposite side and we could walk closer together.  
It didn't matter at all. I just wanted to be with him and relax; the details didn't matter. I pinched a bit of his pant leg between my fingers. They were new, and looked good on him.  
"Yep, new ones. Mom had a bonfire last night and burned my old ones. Man, I'm really tired today. Why am I so tired?"  
Well bonfires will keep one up at night, won't they? I just shrugged my shoulders.  
"But seriously, I want you to pick. I always pick what we do cause I'm pushy and loud and you're really easygoing. What are you in the mood for?" He stopped, giving me a chance to think and type without risking death.  
Parasailing  
"Funny Mitch, funny. We could make paper boats or throw sticks into the river; that's about as close as we can get this afternoon." He rubbed his hand on his chin, thinking. "Unless we tie a sheet to your hands and feet and you jump off a roof. Hey, what's the craziest thing you've ever done?"  
That's one of those questions that seems like a normal one, but does anyone really have an answer? Crazy people, maybe. I hadn't done anything crazy. My early teenage years had been spent just trying to get up to speed and back to my old self. My old self had been a fairly quiet, shy kid. I did the normal stuff; bikes, theatre, video games, watching waaaay too much Pokémon.   
Stole once  
"Tell me! Like a little candy bar or something from a store or did you mug somebody? Or oooh, a bank? Did you wear a mask?"  
I tilted my head to the side and gave him my best 'are you serious right now? REALLY?' face which made him laugh.  
"I was hoping for a really good story. Okay, so what was it? What lured you to the dark side?"  
Sparkly pens  
He had to stop and put one hand on my shoulder for support. He kept mumbling 'pens.... glitter pens...' between bouts of laughter and eventually I pushed his hand off my shoulder and kept walking.  
"Wait! I'm sorry.... no I'm really not but wait for me anyway!" He caught up to me within four or five steps and grabbed my book bag strap as he detoured towards the river. "Come with me a sec?" He stopped then and faced me. "Wait, is that okay? Will you come down here with me?"  
I nodded and happily followed him down the path. We didn't come out at our normal rock and it was actually nicer here, I thought. The water was very spread out making a large pool.  
He read my mind, like he did so often. "Really pretty here, but there are too many bugs usually but I just... can I have a kiss? Before we go and do whatever it is you decide to do today?"  
Oh yeah. I looked around to make sure we were alone before tilting my head up towards him. He, and I like to think I had too, had gotten really, really good at this. Kissing him was pretty much the highlight of my life. Not that it had much competition, but still. I would do it about 16 hours a day if I could and I was pretty sure he felt the same way.  
"And Mitch, just in case you've been carrying that heavy load of guilt around with you, you're forgiven. You are absolved of your sin."  
I flipped him off and he kissed me again, his lips turned up in a smile. We didn't part until his phone had chirped twice.  
He opened it, then got excited. "Want to go swimming at Kevin's?"  
It was hot, and I hadn't been yet this spring. As much as I wanted to be alone with Scott, swimming sounded great.

 

 

I actually had a class with Kevin and recognized him as soon as he opened the door. He knew me too, that was the thing with being new and 'special' -- people remembered and noticed me while I had to struggle with names. He was great though and soon we were heading out to his patio where 2 younger girls I didn't know were already relaxing.  
I wasted no time and soon I was reclining on a lounge chair, trunks and t-shirt on, book in hand. I was good. Scott had thrown his towel onto the chair next to mine and literally run to the stairs and clambered in. He was sitting on the steps and it looked like he was waiting for me. He was just a little bit excited.  
"Miiiiiiiiiiiiitch, come in!" he called.  
I shook my head no and held up my book.  
"You can read at home. You can NOT pool at home. Get in here with me!" He stood and walked over to the edge, facing me.  
My father taught me that there are many ways to get into a pool but the stairs is not one of them. I stripped out of my shirt and walked over to the diving board. I considered showing off but did a simple dive into the water, then swam over towards Scott.  
"Wow! You are amazing. Can you do any others? Dives I mean?"  
I nodded and looked pretty proud of myself.  
"I wish I could."  
This was the bad part about pools. I had no way of talking to him. My phone was safely tucked in my bag and my pad was laying on my chair. I tried for a few seconds to gesture that I would show him and somehow, he got it.  
"Oh, um, you'd have to teach me to swim first."  
The look of shock on my face must have said all it needed to.  
"Cross my heart, I can't. I mean, I could probably doggy paddle or manage to not die if I really had to, at least I hope I could, but there's no way I'm hopping into the deep end on purpose. And no, you can't teach me because even if you could, it's embarrassing as hell that I can't yet. Plus, I don't think I'm the floaty type, you know? I'll sink like a stone. I'm a noodle."  
I wish I could have told him that swimming wasn't that hard and that I could probably teach him the basics in like 20 minutes if I could talk. Maybe if the new therapy worked I would try to figure out a way to get him alone in a pool or lake so he wouldn't be embarrassed. I'd add it to my 'If I ever get fixed' list.  
"Hey guys, I'm gonna run my sister and her friend over to the mall. You two okay here for a few?" Kevin asked.  
I heard Scott mutter a 'sure we're good if you don't mind us staying' but all I could think about was that if I was a guy who believed in signs, this would be one. As soon as the glass door slid closed, I got Scott's attention and told him to watch me. Then I lay on my back and floated before standing up and pointing to him.  
"You want ME to do that? Wait, that's not what I mean -- you want me to TRY to do that?"  
Yes. I held my arms out with my palms facing up just below the water, promising to hold him.  
"You're funny but there's no one here to see us, I guess, and it's only four feet of water. Fine. Are you ready to laugh?"  
I tilted my head to the side and tried to look bored.  
"So do I just lean back? Or is there an order I need to do this in?"  
I pushed on his chest, which is very, very nice by the way and he leaned back. I have to admit that his head went under once before I realized that all his weight was up top and moved my arms. I managed to get him floating a little bit though, although his feet were still dipping down. Maybe he was right, his body was not exactly buoyant. This was going to require kicking.  
I stood him back up, then grabbed onto the edge of the pool and pushed back, bringing my legs up and kicking lightly.  
"And now you want me to do that, right? Just kick? How are you holding yourself up?"  
I stood up and flexed my non-existent bicep.  
"Well if you can do it, I probably can too. Okay. Watch out, I'm not responsible for who or what I kick."  
I took his advice and stepped back a bit since there was no danger of him drowning or anything. I spent 45 seconds doing my absolute best to not laugh, but wow was it a sight. Legs wide, then together, way high and splashing water practically to Nebraska but it didn't take him too long to settle in.  
I tapped his shoulder and he stood up, then looked back towards Kevin's house before pulling me close and kissing me. The feeling of his chest up against mine and the cool water around us was amazing.  
"Thanks for teaching me, for trying. I'll practice in my bathtub" he joked just as we heard a door slam. "More of both of those things some other time Mitchy."

 

The rest of that week flew by. All that mattered, and all that was on my mind, was the end of next week. Now that it was Saturday, things were right around the corner. We'd decided to start CIT right after the State Championship and that would leave only 3 weeks of school before summer vacation. Part of me wanted to wait until summer to start since it would make things simpler with my schedule at school. There was another part of me that held out some hope that I would be magically fixed in time to enjoy my summer and that won out. Plus it's what the adults wanted, so I went along with it. I think they were worried I would chicken out or change my mind. They were wrong though, my parents didn't call me 'stubborn' for nothing.  
My mom had asked me to invite Scott over so they could 'talk'. She wanted to find out some details about the trip to Houston before she let me go off into the wild. It also gave her the opportunity to drill the details of my therapy into Scott's head. I was with him a LOT and part of her was worried that he wouldn't be strict enough with me and it would be enough for my brain to not switch. She wanted him 100% on board. So, pizza had been ordered and he had been invited for dinner. I saw him walking up the sidewalk through the front window and met him at the door.  
"Hey Mitch" he said, and then softer "how bad is this going to be?"  
I shrugged and flipped my palm back and forth a few times before motioning him inside.  
"Hi Scott" mom said. "Pizza should be here soon. I was hoping you could tell us what happens at States, just in general. You guys take a bus down and then what happens that evening? And then afterwards?"  
"Oh, yeah, we all ride down and then we usually head to the school. We get a classroom to practice in. Last year we went to the hotel rooms to check in and change in the afternoon, then ate before heading back to the school again in the evening. Then we perform and hit the hotel once it's all over. Hopefully with a trophy. The next morning we all do breakfast together and we leave pretty early. Does that answer your question?"  
"And you do all this as groups?"  
"Yeah, they keep a tight leash on us. It goes pretty quick, we're really not there very long."  
"Okay, thank you. And you'll keep an eye on Mitch? I worry about him with his communication issues."  
"Of course Mrs. G. I promise he'll be on the bus when it leaves Houston. But really, the entire hotel is full of students and there will be two busses of us who all know about Mitch, so you don't need to worry."  
"Thanks Scott. Let's talk about his CIT after dinner, okay?"  
After she had left, Scott turned to me. "So that wasn't so bad."  
'Fine'  
"She's going to let you go, right?"  
I nodded.   
"It's so much fun, and I get to be with you so I can't wait." He was distracted by the doorbell and hopped to open it. He took the pizza from the delivery guy while mom paid. After we'd each had a few slices and my dad had disappeared again to finish up work, Scott was brave and started the conversation. "So tell me about CIT, Mrs. G."  
"We're going to need your help with this Scott. As hard as it is, you have to ignore his gestures and not let him write. No signing or texts. We have to force his brain to speak."  
"I really have no say in any of this, I know, and should keep my mouth shut, but it seems so mean. Isn't there anything else?" he asked.  
"I know, it does sound rather extreme. Mr. Rodriguez explained it to me like this: If I asked you to go outside and build a fire without tools, you probably wouldn't be able to do it. You'd give up. But if you were stranded in the forest with no hope of rescue until tomorrow, you would try anything and everything to build a fire then, right? You'd try rubbing sticks together, and then striking a rock. You'd try to light one with a piece of glass if you could find it, or anything you could think of -- right? Well that's what we need Mitch's brain to do. He doesn't HAVE to speak now, so his brain isn't willing to force itself to. We have to take away the other options so that his brain will try different solutions."  
"I kinda see what you mean, I guess. But for how long?"  
"Until he gives up. It could take weeks, it could be months. We're hoping that a LOT of progress will be made over the summer. But Mr. Rodriguez said that it absolutely won't all come back at once. He's going to keep an eye on him and decide when enough progress has been made, when the foundation is laid, so that things like having his phone won't hinder his progress."  
"You're going to take his phone?" Scott asked aghast and I joined him. I hadn't even thought of that.  
"Of course we are. I need you to promise not to let him slip or cheat, Scott. It has to be all or nothing or it could undermine the entire therapy. You have to make him try to talk. Can you do that?"

 

 

Saturday felt like it would NEVER get here. I wanted it to happen like NOW but I also knew that soon afterwards my life was going to get very difficult so I wasn't sure how I felt about the whole thing. The result was that the week dragged on forever. But the day of the championship had finally arrived and my mom was dropping me off at the school where Scott was already waiting. He'd wanted to arrive separately to help with the 'not rooming with Mitch' lie.  
"Mitch, be careful and have fun. Break a leg honey!" Mom said as I climbed out of the car. I waved and closed my door, more than ready to be on the road now that I'd seen the buses. I had expected school buses but we had nice chartered ones. Martin High travelled in style and I approved.  
Scott bound towards me, a huge smile on his face. "Mitch! Here, put your suitcase in this pile. Bring whatever you want to have on the bus or this afternoon -- the luggage goes straight to the hotel."  
I knew this, Mrs. Clark had gone over it in class and Scott had reminded me too. He was taking his job as 'Mitch protector' seriously. I wasn't going to complain. I rolled my small suitcase over and kept my book bag. It had a book, my jacket, some snacks and my phone in it and I didn't plan on being separated from it.  
"I picked our seats, I hope it's okay. I got the emergency exit seats! More legroom. And we got lucky and they're near Kayla because last year she brought really good snacks. Luckily Ed and Tyler are on the other bus, they are annoying as hell in close quarters."  
I don't know what he had for breakfast, but it must have included a lot of sugar or perhaps he'd popped a few uppers. His excitement was contagious though and I couldn't help but grin as I followed him onto the bus. This was the furthest I'd ever been from my parents. It was only one night, but I felt very free. I was a little guilty about the fact that I'd barely given any thought to the actual competition. It would have been different if I had a solo or a main part, but I was just singing background.  
"Mitch? Where's Mitch Grassi? Is he here yet?" Mrs. Clark called. People pointed towards my bus and soon she had climbed on board. "Come with me please, I need to talk to you. Quickly."  
I nervously looked at Scott but he just shrugged his shoulders so I grabbed my bag and made my way back down to the parking lot.  
"Mitch, David is in the hospital with appendicitis. Can you do his solo? Do you know it?"  
Did I? I had sung it a few times to fill in the space when I was listening to Scott's recording. But could I get in front of people and do it? Maybe?  
"How do we find out Mitch? Wait, I've got it. Stay right here" she said and walked back to the first bus. "Everybody off the bus. Everybody, NOW!" She was flailing her arms as she yelled loudly enough for the entire bus to hear her, then she walked to the second and repeated her order. "Assemble, performance order, on me." She thrust a music binder at me and pulled out her pitch pipe. "Okay everyone, song 2 from the top, unaccompanied. Key of C."  
I tried not to think too hard; if I did I would psych myself out. I managed to get through the solo and she started again. By the time I'd done it twice she seemed happy. "Okay everybody, back on. Let's go! We have a schedule!"  
I turned around and realized that everyone was staring at me. I guess most of them hadn't really heard me sing before; I usually blended in as well as I could. Slowly they started moving back towards the buses but there were still a lot of eyes focused on me and a lot of whispers going on.  
"Mitch, they're just amazed. It's all good, I promise" Scott said. "Come on, we can talk easier once we're sitting down."  
I wasn't sure if he was right but I followed him anyway. I was much less uncomfortable than I had been alone.  
"Mitch?" one of the girls said as I passed. "Your voice is angelic. I don't know how you do it, but if you sing like that tonight, we just might win."  
Scott urged me forward and as soon as we sat down he whispered "See? I told you."

 

 

Saturday felt like it would NEVER get here. I wanted it to happen like NOW but I also knew that soon afterwards my life was going to get very difficult so I wasn't sure how I felt about the whole thing. The result was that the week dragged on forever. But the day of the championship had finally arrived and my mom was dropping me off at the school where Scott was already waiting. He'd wanted to arrive separately to help with the 'not rooming with Mitch' lie.  
"Mitch, be careful and have fun. Break a leg honey!" Mom said as I climbed out of the car. I waved and closed my door, more than ready to be on the road now that I'd seen the buses. I had expected school buses but we had nice chartered ones. Martin High travelled in style and I approved.  
Scott bound towards me, a huge smile on his face. "Mitch! Here, put your suitcase in this pile. Bring whatever you want to have on the bus or this afternoon -- the luggage goes straight to the hotel."  
I knew this, Mrs. Clark had gone over it in class and Scott had reminded me too. He was taking his job as 'Mitch protector' seriously. I wasn't going to complain. I rolled my small suitcase over and kept my book bag. It had a book, my jacket, some snacks and my phone in it and I didn't plan on being separated from it.  
"I picked our seats, I hope it's okay. I got the emergency exit seats! More legroom. And we got lucky and they're near Kayla because last year she brought really good snacks. Luckily Ed and Tyler are on the other bus, they are annoying as hell in close quarters."  
I don't know what he had for breakfast, but it must have included a lot of sugar or perhaps he'd popped a few uppers. His excitement was contagious though and I couldn't help but grin as I followed him onto the bus. This was the furthest I'd ever been from my parents. It was only one night, but I felt very free. I was a little guilty about the fact that I'd barely given any thought to the actual competition. It would have been different if I had a solo or a main part, but I was just singing background.  
"Mitch? Where's Mitch Grassi? Is he here yet?" Mrs. Clark called. People pointed towards my bus and soon she had climbed on board. "Come with me please, I need to talk to you. Quickly."  
I nervously looked at Scott but he just shrugged his shoulders so I grabbed my bag and made my way back down to the parking lot.  
"Mitch, David is in the hospital with appendicitis. Can you do his solo? Do you know it?"  
Did I? I had sung it a few times to fill in the space when I was listening to Scott's recording. But could I get in front of people and do it? Maybe?  
"How do we find out Mitch? Wait, I've got it. Stay right here" she said and walked back to the first bus. "Everybody off the bus. Everybody, NOW!" She was flailing her arms as she yelled loudly enough for the entire bus to hear her, then she walked to the second and repeated her order. "Assemble, performance order, on me." She thrust a music binder at me and pulled out her pitch pipe. "Okay everyone, song 2 from the top, unaccompanied. Key of C."  
I tried not to think too hard; if I did I would psych myself out. I managed to get through the solo and she started again. By the time I'd done it twice she seemed happy. "Okay everybody, back on. Let's go! We have a schedule!"  
I turned around and realized that everyone was staring at me. I guess most of them hadn't really heard me sing before; I usually blended in as well as I could. Slowly they started moving back towards the buses but there were still a lot of eyes focused on me and a lot of whispers going on.  
"Mitch, they're just amazed. It's all good, I promise" Scott said. "Come on, we can talk easier once we're sitting down."  
I wasn't sure if he was right but I followed him anyway. I was much less uncomfortable than I had been alone.  
"Mitch?" one of the girls said as I passed. "Your voice is angelic. I don't know how you do it, but if you sing like that tonight, we just might win."  
Scott urged me forward and as soon as we sat down he whispered "See? I told you."

 

 

"You have to let me let all this excitement out or I'm going to explode Mitch!!" Scott threatened as soon as we walked into our room. "I can not BELIEVE IT!" He grabbed my shoulders and spun us in a circle.  
I don't know how he had any energy left, honestly. He'd more than let it out. He'd been jumping and yelling for an hour, the whole choir had. Mrs. Clark had taken about 20 minutes to get a handle on her emotions, but then she'd made us all settle down. The congratulations and excitement hadn't stopped though, just dropped a few decibels. Scott though had been amazingly restrained around me, knowing that the other 45 people were more than enough for me to handle. I looked down and realized I still had my frame clutched in my hands.  
"Best male soloist is HUGE Mitch! Congrats."  
I walked over towards my suitcase and started to put it inside. I thought it would be safe between my clothes.  
"No, NO! Put it up somewhere! Show it off! Put it on the desk so we can stare at it all night."  
I straightened myself back up and did as he asked, setting it on the work station next to his IPad which was charging already. I plugged my phone in, then grabbed my notepad. 4th is amazing. focus on that.  
"Trust me, I am over the damn moon about placing fourth. We didn't even break the top 10 last year. I'm not saying your amazing solo did ALL of that, because let's face it, our choir is amazing this year. But uh, it didn't hurt. But Mitch, you got the best male soloist award!"  
'Thanks'  
"Why aren't you happier about it?" he asked, concern spreading over his face. He stopped moving for the first time and turned all his attention to me.  
I was happy. I was. But I had been so scared the whole time that I was having a hard time letting go of the fear. I had managed to work myself down to shock, maybe, but I wasn't up for faking happiness yet. I decided to be honest. Was so scared I'm still numb.  
"Okay, I get that. You killed it though, really. And it's over, right? Why don't I get changed and you can have a few minutes of quiet. Then I want to ask you something if you're up for it. Don't let me forget."  
He dug through his bag a moment before ducking into the bathroom. I kicked off my shoes and turned on the TV, reclining on one of the beds. I didn't want to think about what I may or may not be up for.  
"Taking the good bed huh? I see how it is."  
I looked back and forth, they were the same. Well, one was closer to the bathroom. I gave him a look.  
"I was kidding. Mitch, can I ask you something?"  
Yes.  
"I was thinking about your therapy a lot this week, the new stuff? And it got me thinking that I don't get how you can sing and not talk. I've sort of asked before and you joke it off, but I really want to know. Like do you not know how to make the words when you try to talk?"  
It's more like they just aren't there. You know the voice in your head?  
"Yep. My thinking voice is ALWAYS going. Drives me crazy."  
It's hooked up to your mouth. You can think 'gravy' and say it. I can think it usually but it gets lost between my thinking brain and my mouth. It's not connected.   
"That sounds fucking awful. Sorry, but it does. But that one time, when I tickled you, you sort of said stop. You can make sounds, right?"  
I don't know how I did that. If you asked me right now to say stop I couldn't.  
"Try?"  
I didn't want to, but he was going to hear all kinds of stuff next week. "Fa" I said softly, then gave up. Can't. Need an S but can't. Got lucky last time maybe.  
"But you can understand everything?"  
Couldn't at first, words were mixed up a lot. That part got better. Was scary as hell though. Like waking up in a foreign country sort of.  
"Wow. I can't even imagine that. But you can sing, so you do know how to actually say words. You can sing perfectly if you just hear the music, or sometimes you don't even need it, do you? You've sung to me without it."  
I hear it in my head, the music, and then words come out but I'm not thinking the words. I don't know, really. I would tell you. Singing is a different side of the brain than talking.  
"It is? That's cool. And don't worry, I don't think you're like not telling me on purpose or something Mitch. I was just curious, you know? I just don't get why can't you make words without music."  
I don't know. Brains are complicated. Don't want to talk about talking or next week anymore. What do you want to do tonight?  
"It's a secret, but Mike and Chris have liquor and a lot of people will be in their room tonight. Want to go, Mr. Award-winner?"  
No. Although I've never gotten drunk.  
"I did once. It doesn't take much vodka, trust me. You can replace it with water in a pinch and no one knows. You might be a lot of fun when you're drunk, but we only have one night so let's not waste it with other people."  
Sounds good.  
He fiddled with his fingers a moment. "I'm really nervous" he admitted.  
"Me too." He looked so cute and I knew he actually was as nervous as I was. It made my butterflies just a little easier to bear. We hadn't really talked about anything about tonight but come on, we were in a hotel in Houston. If we were going to do something, tonight was the night.   
"Want to watch a movie or something?" he asked, staring at me.  
I scooted over and made room for him, then patted the bed. It was just an excuse to come over here and I knew it, and he knew that I knew it, but that was okay.  
"Hi" he said softly, leaving a few inches between us. "Um, Mitch?"  
I raised my eyebrows. He was adorable.  
"Promise me you'll tell me if, I mean, we don't have to do anything, obviously. Shit, this isn't right. Um, it's just that IF something happens, whatever it is, I don't want to do anything you don't want to do. Right? So you have to promise to not let me push you or whatever because even though I don't know.... God I'm bad at this. I just... I'm ready for whatever. If we want, I mean you, no, well we... right? Yeah if we want to do something, that would be fine with me but ONLY if you really want to. Okay?"  
I tried to put those words into coherent sentences in my head but wasn't sure if I was just hearing what I wanted to hear. In the end I decided to go with 'he doesn't want to push me into anything'. I looked over at him and nodded.  
"So uh, I know 'no'" he said, signing it "but what's 'stop' or how will I know if I hurt you or do something you don't like?"  
I pinched his arm. Harder than I had to.  
"OW! You little shit! That is NOT stop!" He pouted then and looked adorable. "But it did get my attention I guess."  
I leaned over and kissed his arm where it was turning red. You're lucky it was your arm.


	3. Smut, you can absolutely skip

*** PG-13 - Rish?  Closer to R?  You can absolutely skip this chapter.  
Right then, when the air was heavy with anticipation, I realized that we had NO idea what to do.  I sort of knew endgame, but I didn't know how to get there.  I wasn't even sure if we were going THERE yet.  This wasn't a straight movie, the normal 1st and 2nd bases didn't work.  And it sure as hell wasn't a gay porn where one of us was going to just get our clothes ripped off and get right down to business.    
I guess when I thought about doing well, anything, I always figured the other guy would know what he was doing.  Not a good plan, but it was all I had.  Right now I was hoping Scott knew more than he admitted.  I was absolutely 110% unprepared.  It probably wouldn't have bothered me so much if it didn't matter but this was huge and completely overwhelming.  Not that I wanted my first time to not matter, but if it wasn't Scott and I made a fool of myself, I probably wouldn't care so much.  
"We're probably both WAY overthinking this" Scott said, reading my mind yet again.  "Can I just kiss you?  And we'll see what happens?  Does that work?"  He reached over and took my hand.  "I just want to be close without worrying about getting walked in on or getting eaten alive by bugs.  If we just kiss and then watch a movie, that's okay, I promise.  I don't want you to rush just because of the therapy."  
What do you mean?  
"Just, we can't do anything then, right?  Until you can use words... I wouldn't do anything if you couldn't tell me things."  
Oh no, there was NO way I was waiting for this until after therapy. I want to do more than kiss you.  
"You do?  Good, me too."  He scooted over closer and turned to his side so that he was almost pressed up against me.  "I have um, whatever we might need.  My sister hooked me up.  In case you were worried about that stuff."  
I hadn't been, that's how absolutely clueless I was. I mean, I knew we needed protection and stuff but it hadn't crossed my mind yet.  'Thanks' I signed, then rolled towards him slightly so I could kiss him.  It was late and we should have both been tired but sleep was the last thing on my mind once his lips touched mine.  We kissed for what felt like hours, in every position possible.  I loved him above me, his biceps straining as he held himself up.    
Our shirts quickly disappeared but pants felt like a huge step.  I tentatively reached for his waistband but changed my mind and undid my button instead.  I wasn't quite brave enough to touch him yet. I knew he was waiting for me and even though I hated that I had to do things first, it was sweet.  
"Do you want those off?"  When I nodded he asked "Can I do it?"  He sat back, then slowly slid down my zipper like he was unwrapping a Christmas present and wanted to save the paper.   
I was so nervous.  I had seen enough photos on Tumblr to know that my anatomy was just fine, but I had no idea if HE would like it.  We were so physically different and I felt shy.  He didn't mess with my underwear though, just slipped my pants down and threw them towards the chair.    
I watched him have an internal debate with himself but he ended up laying beside me again, his hands safely above my waist.  He'd kissed my neck earlier, driving me crazy, but this time he didn't stop there and return to my lips.  He went down further and flicked his tongue across my nipple.  He looked up at me to see my reaction but was already smiling because my hips had given me away.  I nodded before practically pushing his head back towards my chest.  I wanted more of that.  
I could feel his c0ck against my leg, he was pressed up against me and he made amazing noises whenever I moved my hips.  "Mitch?  Can I?  Do you want?"  He raised up so he could see me, then gently rubbed the palm of his hand over me.  
I bucked my hips up, wanting more pressure and nodded.  He was back at my collarbones, then my lips as his palm continued to bring me closer.  I didn't know if I should come, I didn't think he'd mind but I had no idea if I was ruining some grand plan and I didn't want to stop things and ask.  I just wanted more.  I wanted to feel his skin, I wanted his fingers wrapped around me, I wanted more of everything.  
One of my hands ended up at the waistband of my boxer briefs and I dipped my thumb under and lifted, freeing myself before pushing them down slightly.  
Scott broke the kiss off and smiled down at me.  "Can I try to make you feel good?  I want to touch you."  
Absolutely.  I grabbed his hand in a moment of bravery and moved it, overwhelmed when fingers that weren't mine closed around me.  It felt amazing and much different than usual; so weird but in the best way possible.  It felt surreal, like I wasn't quite in my body any more.  I stared into his light eyes, silently begging him for whatever he was willing to offer.  
"You feel so good in my hand.  You're perfect" he whispered against my lips.  "Is this okay?"  
It was wonderful, if not a little bit too gentle.  He was being careful with me but I was so close that I wanted more.  I grabbed his hair and pulled him towards me, kissing him hard.  He took the hint and it wasn't long before my need overcame my shyness and I coated my stomach, panting and hoping I hadn't sounded like an idiot.


	4. Chapter 4

"Welcome home honey!"  
I hadn't exactly been on a three-month archeological dig in Mongolia but it was nice that mom was so happy to see me.  I knew she was relieved I was home safe, too.  I had a theory that she thought her eyes were magical and that no harm would come to me as long as I was in sight.  They were nice eyes, don't get me wrong, but it had felt nice to be away from them for a night.  Very nice.  
I still couldn't believe everything that had happened.  I wondered if she could see it on me.  Maybe I looked different?  More mature or more worldly or I don't know, just happier?  Was I walking weird?  Let me just say that I had been super glad for the soft padded seats on the fancy bus this morning.   It was probably in my head but they just looked like a good idea.  I started to worry that even though her eyes didn't have powers, she definitely had some sort of mom-radar-superpower and that she would just KNOW and it was NOT a conversation I wanted to have right now.  Or ever.  
"So where is it Mitch? Let me see!"  
Where is what?!?  My heart rate went up to about 110 and my palms were sweaty.  There was NOTHING from last night that I wanted to show her.  Absolutely, literally nothing.  The three hickeys on my neck were probably the least risqué option but I'd been glad my shirt hid them; they'd been quite the surprise this morning.  
"I made room for your certificate, I thought we should put it up.  I'm so proud of you honey!"  
Oh.  Oh.  The award.  I pointed at my suitcase where it was safely packed away.  
"Of course.  Bring it down when you finish unpacking?  I thought we'd go out to dinner to celebrate, so decide where you'd like to go."  
I don't think I've ever gone up stairs with a suitcase so fast.  I shut my door and collapsed on my bed, then immediately tried to get comfortable.  Muscles I didn't even know I had ached.  It was nice though and made me think of Scott.  And once he was back in my head, I was a goner.  I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.  
Mitch:  Miss u already.  I'm a dork.  
Scott:  Same.  Feels weird at home too.  Don't know how to explain.  
Mitch:  No I totally get it.  
Scott:  Want to sneak out and meet at the rock?  
Mitch:  Going out to dinner.  Later?  
Scott:  My parents have a thing, they'll be back around 9.  8?  
Mitch:  Sure.  Can't wait 2 see u.  
Eight.  I was getting a good-night kiss at eight o'clock.  I could make it until then.  Probably.  The wide grin on my face cracked even ME up and I was glad I wasn't in public.  Damn I was smitten.  But he was so amazing.  Perfect, really.  And somehow, he liked me.  A lot.  Even with the stroke and the not talking.  But soon, maybe that would change.  Maybe I'd finally be able to tell him how I felt and what I was thinking without picking and choosing my words like precious commodities.  Hopefully he'd like me just as much then.  But what if he didn't?  What if he LIKED me quiet?  
I jumped off my bed and unzipped my suitcase.  I needed to stop thinking so damn much.  There was no way to know if the therapy would even work, so convincing myself that horrible things were going to happen was stupid.  Tonight was my last night of communicating.  Starting tomorrow I was going to have to get the hell over my shyness and force myself to sound like an idiot in front of everyone.  Why the hell had I signed up for this?  I shut my dresser drawer a lot harder than I needed to before kicking my suitcase towards my closet.  
A solid two knocks on my door let me know it was dad.  He gave me 10 seconds, then stuck his head in.  "Everything alright?"  
I nodded.  
"You don't look anything like alright, son.  What's up?"  He pointed towards my phone and then crossed his arms over the barrel that was his chest.  He was going to wait me out.  
Stressed about therapy tomorrow.    
"It would be weird if you weren't.  You know that if you really need something, you can tell me anyhow you need to."  
Mom will flip.  She's told me 100 times that it's all or nothing.  
"Yeah, well, that's her.  You tell ME if you need anything, alright?  I don't want you sick or something and feeling like you can't write a note.  Now, speaking of your mother, she wants to know where you want to eat.  Any chance I can put in a good word for Italian?"  
Sushi?  
"Come on Mitch, that's not even FOOD.  But it's your celebration, so I guess.  I'll just eat when we get home."  
Not like I get to pick for a long time.  
"I guess you're right. Let's hope it's not a long time though, alright?  Don't borrow trouble Mitch.  You hungry yet?"  
If it meant making sure I was back by eight, I was starving.

 

 

*** The R rated stuff is over in the Tidbits book :)

"Welcome home honey!"  
I hadn't exactly been on a three-month archeological dig in Mongolia but it was nice that mom was so happy to see me.  I knew she was relieved I was home safe, too.  I had a theory that she thought her eyes were magical and that no harm would come to me as long as I was in sight.  They were nice eyes, don't get me wrong, but it had felt nice to be away from them for a night.  Very nice.  
I still couldn't believe everything that had happened.  I wondered if she could see it on me.  Maybe I looked different?  More mature or more worldly or I don't know, just happier?  Was I walking weird?  Let me just say that I had been super glad for the soft padded seats on the fancy bus this morning.   It was probably in my head but they just looked like a good idea.  I started to worry that even though her eyes didn't have powers, she definitely had some sort of mom-radar-superpower and that she would just KNOW and it was NOT a conversation I wanted to have right now.  Or ever.  
"So where is it Mitch? Let me see!"  
Where is what?!?  My heart rate went up to about 110 and my palms were sweaty.  There was NOTHING from last night that I wanted to show her.  Absolutely, literally nothing.  The three hickeys on my neck were probably the least risqué option but I'd been glad my shirt hid them; they'd been quite the surprise this morning.  
"I made room for your certificate, I thought we should put it up.  I'm so proud of you honey!"  
Oh.  Oh.  The award.  I pointed at my suitcase where it was safely packed away.  
"Of course.  Bring it down when you finish unpacking?  I thought we'd go out to dinner to celebrate, so decide where you'd like to go."  
I don't think I've ever gone up stairs with a suitcase so fast.  I shut my door and collapsed on my bed, then immediately tried to get comfortable.  Muscles I didn't even know I had ached.  It was nice though and made me think of Scott.  And once he was back in my head, I was a goner.  I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.  
Mitch:  Miss u already.  I'm a dork.  
Scott:  Same.  Feels weird at home too.  Don't know how to explain.  
Mitch:  No I totally get it.  
Scott:  Want to sneak out and meet at the rock?  
Mitch:  Going out to dinner.  Later?  
Scott:  My parents have a thing, they'll be back around 9.  8?  
Mitch:  Sure.  Can't wait 2 see u.  
Eight.  I was getting a good-night kiss at eight o'clock.  I could make it until then.  Probably.  The wide grin on my face cracked even ME up and I was glad I wasn't in public.  Damn I was smitten.  But he was so amazing.  Perfect, really.  And somehow, he liked me.  A lot.  Even with the stroke and the not talking.  But soon, maybe that would change.  Maybe I'd finally be able to tell him how I felt and what I was thinking without picking and choosing my words like precious commodities.  Hopefully he'd like me just as much then.  But what if he didn't?  What if he LIKED me quiet?  
I jumped off my bed and unzipped my suitcase.  I needed to stop thinking so damn much.  There was no way to know if the therapy would even work, so convincing myself that horrible things were going to happen was stupid.  Tonight was my last night of communicating.  Starting tomorrow I was going to have to get the hell over my shyness and force myself to sound like an idiot in front of everyone.  Why the hell had I signed up for this?  I shut my dresser drawer a lot harder than I needed to before kicking my suitcase towards my closet.  
A solid two knocks on my door let me know it was dad.  He gave me 10 seconds, then stuck his head in.  "Everything alright?"  
I nodded.  
"You don't look anything like alright, son.  What's up?"  He pointed towards my phone and then crossed his arms over the barrel that was his chest.  He was going to wait me out.  
Stressed about therapy tomorrow.    
"It would be weird if you weren't.  You know that if you really need something, you can tell me anyhow you need to."  
Mom will flip.  She's told me 100 times that it's all or nothing.  
"Yeah, well, that's her.  You tell ME if you need anything, alright?  I don't want you sick or something and feeling like you can't write a note.  Now, speaking of your mother, she wants to know where you want to eat.  Any chance I can put in a good word for Italian?"  
Sushi?  
"Come on Mitch, that's not even FOOD.  But it's your celebration, so I guess.  I'll just eat when we get home."  
Not like I get to pick for a long time.  
"I guess you're right. Let's hope it's not a long time though, alright?  Don't borrow trouble Mitch.  You hungry yet?"  
If it meant making sure I was back by eight, I was starving.

 

 

"Mitch, have you ever tried to rap?"  
I shook my head no.  
"Mitch, have you ever tried to rap?" Mrs. Maldonado asked me again.  
I was really rethinking the whole therapy thing and it was only 8:17 am on Monday. My mom had sequestered my phone during breakfast and I felt it's absence keenly. She'd even made me turn over my trusty notepad, even though I'd tried to tell her that there was, contrary to popular belief, paper and pencils at school. It was symbolic though apparently. Now Mrs. Maldonado was asking me really random questions and ignoring me, which she was supposed to do I guess, but still.  
"There's a reason for the question, and the answer is important. Yes?"  
I stayed quiet.  
"No?"  
Have you ever walked into your house at night, maybe gotten home late from a friends house or dinner and tried to flip on the light switch and nothing happens? That feeling, that 'what/how/afraid' feeling is exactly what I felt every time I opened my mouth. What do you MEAN there are no words coming/lights coming on? Is the light/thought burned out? What's unplugged? Faulty wiring? Is the power out? Where's my flashlight/note pad? Being stared at is exactly like hearing a noise coming from the other room. It's your house so it's probably perfectly safe, but right then your brain goes haywire. She was waiting, very patiently, but still waiting. I was going to have to make some sort of noise. I half sang, half said the first note of the scale: "Do."  
"Very good. So I was thinking that you can sing, obviously, so perhaps rapping would be a step closer to talking. Perhaps you could pick a simple song to memorize and see if we can pull words from it on demand?"  
Okay, the idea was interesting. There was music, but it wasn't sung. Would I be able to do it? Would it float through my head the way music did or get stuck in the twisted web that was my damaged brain? I really had no idea. I signed 'I try' but she ignored it. I stared at the clock, wishing for the bell to ring. My teachers had all had a conference about me last week, I didn't expect any problems from them. It's not like they normally called on me, anyway. They were actually the only people I was allowed to write notes to, and only then in emergencies or if I really didn't understand an assignment. Choir would be fine though, I would get to sing and see Scott. I just had to make it through until then. Chin up, feet forward, how bad could it be?  
"Mitch? I'd like to see you again tomorrow morning, and every morning after that. Each morning, before the bell rings and I let you go, I'm going to ask you a very important question. You can answer any way you need to, and if you say no, I will give you a pad and we will talk. Okay?"  
I looked at her intently. I really had no idea what she meant.  
"Mitch, are you okay?" she asked solemnly.  
Wow, that hit hard. It was nice of her to care. I nodded yes and signed 'thanks'.  
"You're welcome. I'm glad. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Work on a song for me, and enunciate! Use your voice. Okay?" She was smiling, and I knew she had high hopes for CIT. I was glad someone was excited, because I really wasn't.  
The bell rang and I headed to math. I thought of Scott throughout the whole class; studying for an exam was how we really got to know each other and now that I knew how smart he was, it was almost even funnier. I still wasn't sure if he'd been lying and making up an excuse to see me, or if it had somehow eluded him, but he helped me as often as I helped him nowadays. I should ask him one of these days.  
When I got to choir, one of the sopranos, Jasmine, handed me a note.  
Mitch:  
I hope you get this. I sent you a message but I don't think you have your phone. I'm in the office waiting to get picked up. My grandfather had a heart attack and we're driving to Pensacola this afternoon. Not sure when I'll be back. Please, please ask your mom for your phone, okay? At least let me know you got this?  
I'm so sorry. The timing sucks and I feel like I'm abandoning you but I can't do anything about it.  
I miss you already and you're only one floor above me. See you as soon as I can,  
Scott  
I folded it back up and put it in my pocket. I looked around the room, hoping against hope that it was a joke or something had changed or I'd just read it wrong. The bell rang though and still, no Scott. I forced myself to sing and it actually did take my mind off things for awhile, but as soon as I was back on the bus that afternoon, all I could think was that I had no way of talking to him. I needed my phone.

 

 

Monday night I'd tried to ask my mom for my phone. I signed and she understood, but she refused. I tried to tell her that Scott was gone but she had already stopped listening. I was really too numb to fight about her with it. Besides, he'd be back soon, right?  
Tuesday afternoon I took a different bus home and went to the public library to try to google Scott and find out some way to email him or whatever. How did we not have each other's emails? It was simple, we didn't need them. We were together constantly and used our phones for everything. I didn't have Facebook so I wasn't sure if he did either but I was more than prepared to open an account if I could just find him, somehow. I didn't realize until that moment how cut off I was. I blamed it on moving so much but you'd think that would make me more connected. The problem was that I didn't have anyone to 'leave' so there was no reason to link up and keep in touch. I was pathetic. I walked a long two miles home and wasn't any closer to Scott than I'd been.  
Wednesday during lunch I realized that I didn't even know where Pensacola was. Florida? I wasn't sure if they'd flown or driven and somehow it seemed really important to find out exactly how far away it was and guess (correctly) how they'd gotten there. If they'd flown he would be home sooner, right?  
On Thursday I spent two hours of speech therapy after school trying to learn the intro to 'My name is' by Eminem. Mrs. Maldonado thought introducing myself would be a good place to start. I don't even want to imagine where she's going to get 'Mitch' from. Well actually I could and it was probably going to be a replacement word for something else.  
Friday night was movie night at my house and it was also apparently the start of 'Let's make Mitch talk lots and lots this weekend and fix him!' weekend. By 9 pm they were both mad at me for not 'trying' enough. I ran upstairs and got my letter from Scott and handed it to mom, hoping that she would read it and understand and let me contact him somehow. She wouldn't even look at it but I have to give her credit for at least looking sad about it. I went to bed at 9:30 and slept most of Saturday.  
Sunday they went to church but I refused to get out of bed. I was NOT in the mood. When they left I went and raided the kitchen, taking enough snacks back upstairs to get me through the rest of the day. I lost myself in a book, thankful for the escape. I was actually looking forward to school; at least it would help the time pass.   
I woke up Monday morning absolutely certain that he would be back. He'd been gone an entire week and whose parents would let someone miss that much school? Even if his grandfather had passed, it wouldn't take this long for a funeral and stuff right? He wasn't there though and I was sort of numb by the time I got to choir. I knew he wasn't going to show up, but I kept thinking everyone who came in late was him.  
Mrs. Maldonado stood up as soon as I walked into her office for therapy. "Mitch, are you okay?" She looked so worried that I was afraid I was bleeding.  
No, I was fine, it was her normal question. I was confused, this was an end of therapy thing. She asked me every time I left her office, either right before the bell rang or at 4:45, just before my mom picked me up at 5.   
"Mitch?" She handed me a notepad and I held it in my hands, just staring at it. I hadn't written anything except notes in class in a week. I looked up at her. "Tell me what's wrong. Mrs. Clark told me that you didn't sing in choir today. Are you sick? Is something bothering you? She and I are both worried about you."  
I held the pen in my hand but was too distracted by my eyes watering to actually write. God this was embarrassing. This was my chance to get my phone back, maybe. Or maybe she would let me use her phone to text him? My hand was shaking but I managed to scribble Need Scott.  
"I know you must miss him, Mitch. He's been out of school several days, correct? I know you two are very close friends."  
Need to talk to him. Please.  
"How about this: I'll walk you out after therapy and talk with your mother. Perhaps something can be worked out."  
Important.  
"Is that all that's bothering you?"  
I nodded and she dropped it. If imagining me belting out 'My name is' doesn't bring a smile to your face, you might be in as rough shape as I am. By the end of the session I could say it on demand, even if it was a bit forceful in response to your general 'Who are you?' question. Still, she was pleased so I was too.  
As we headed out towards the parking lot, I heard one of the other teachers call for Mrs. Maldonado. She stopped and turned back just as my mom pulled up.  
"Mitch, hurry please. I need to stop by the store before dinner."  
I didn't want to get into the car without waiting for Mrs. Maldonado but she was 20 feet behind me and busy. What was the point? She'd just say no anyway, probably. I got into the back seat and stared out the window. I waited in the car when mom ran in, even though she said she'd let me pick the ice cream, and retreated into my room as soon as I could.

 

 

Just in case you were wondering, I talked a LOT that first week. Maybe not whole words, and not the words I wanted, but I tried. I really did. It's not like I was raising my hand in class or anything but I vocalized with Mrs. Maldonado and my parents a lot. They were patient as hell, too. It took mom and I about half an hour for me to tell her I wanted spaghetti for dinner, but we got there. I was late for school the morning I was looking for my favorite black t-shirt but we found it.   
In fact, every now and then, I DID have the right word. It was new to me, and still sporadic, but it was the only thing that had gotten me through the past week without Scott. I'd actually had the thought, last Thursday or Friday maybe, that I'd be able to talk by the time he got back. That would have been one hell of a surprise. Unfortunately progress was slow as hell.   
Tonight, after mom and I had gotten home, I'd really tried to tell her I wanted my phone. I had struggled and tried over and over to get words out. I'd tried all the tricks they'd taught me; I tried saying it a different way, tried putting my thoughts to music, tried focusing on just one word at a time and then on the sentence as a whole. It went something like this: Uhhm u nee aalll.... nnnon ii own for Daaah... you get the idea. It was practically torture, for her and for me.  
We'd made progress though, she finally realized that I didn't know when he was coming back and I wanted to talk to him to find out. It wasn't the whole answer, but it was close enough. We'd compromised, sort of. If he wasn't back in school by Friday I would be allowed to text him over the weekend. She thought I'd 'earned' a few texts for working so hard. I wasn't sure I was going to make it to Friday, but I was too tired to argue any more.  
After dinner, my parents went out for 'drinks and socializing' with some of dad's colleagues. I spent the first hour writing yet another ridiculously long letter to Scott. That would teach him to leave me alone; I was going to have a term-paper finished for him by the time he got back. After that I went downstairs and wandered aimlessly around the house. I wasn't looking for anything, I was just tired of sitting in my room.  
I opened the freezer since I was seriously considering taking mom up on the ice cream offer and spied my dad's bottle of vodka. It had been a staple in our freezer for as long as I could remember and I'd never really been all that curious. Scott's words came back to me though; I could replace it with water. Screw it, why not?  
I grabbed it, setting it carefully on the counter. I was supposed to mix this with something, right? I wish I had my phone, I could have looked it up. Suddenly I remembered my mom having it with OJ and I opened the fridge. Score.  
How much though? Half and half? Mostly vodka with a little OJ? I decided to try even amounts but only a little of each, so I'd have room in the cup to add whatever. Brilliant, if I do say so myself. After the first sip I poured another two inches of orange juice in. WOW, cause that was nasty. How did people drink this stuff? I finished off my drink and made another one. This one tasted much better, but I wasn't sure why.  
I turned on some music and started singing and dancing around the house. I was alone and it felt so nice to relax and just chill out. I hesitated making myself another drink but I hadn't drunk more than a few inches of the bottle and I was going to fill it anyway so he wouldn't notice. I decided that I really liked OJ and vodka. I got fancy and put some crushed ice in. Too bad we didn't have those little umbrellas. We did have straws though!  
This was amazing. The only thing that would have been better is if Scott were here. I decided to have one for him, then replaced what I had taken from dad's bottle and stowed it back in the freezer. I missed him, I really did. Before I knew it I was talking, well, voicing. I ranted and raved about everything that had been simmering all week. I yelled at my parents, at strokes in general, at moving and then not at moving because I wouldn't have met Scott. I complained about heart attacks and climate change and the lack of good public transportation in the States. At one point I came out to my dad, then started reciting my favorite lines from movies.   
Then, smart boy that I am, inspiration struck. My phone was in the house somewhere. I could find it, use it, then put it back. No one would be the wiser. I started in the living room and searched through the hall closet but didn't find it. I was on a chair looking through the cupboard above the fridge when the front door opened.

 

 

I had been so sure it would be here. I closed the cupboard quietly and climbed down.  
"Mitch? What are you looking for?" my mom asked.  
"Nuh... Nut" I was so close, even though it was a lie. Screw it. "My" and my eyes lit up and I clapped, I was so excited.  
"Your what, Mitch?" she asked, almost as excited as I was.  
I needed another drink for this. Wait, I couldn't. Shit. Wait, where was my cup? I looked around for it.  
"No, tell me. You're looking for your...."  
"Saaa" No, no no. I just said the damn thing. "Staa" I didn't have time for this. I needed to find my cup and get rid of the evidence and she wasn't going to give me my phone even if I did say it. I waved my hand in dismissal and picked up the chair to put it back.  
"MITCH" my father bellowed from the living room. He sounded mad. "Out here, right now!"  
I sat the chair down with a thud and scurried into the living room.  
"So are you drinking MY vodka or some stash you have hidden somewhere?" he asked, holding my cup.  
My mother looked at me, her mouth hanging open. "Mitchell!"  
"Maaa, I.... I..." and then a pause which probably only lasted ten or fifteen seconds but felt like oh, a year.   
"Get him a pad, Nel. I want answers."  
"We can't Mike!"  
If anyone ever, ever makes jokes or compliments my eye rolling again, I will put them face to face with my father because WOW did I still have a long way to go. He was king, I bowed down. Not literally, that would have been weird.  
He went into the kitchen and I heard the freezer door close, then he returned. "Not mine."  
I shook my head yes and pointed to him.  
I could almost see the gears turning. "You did NOT put water in my vodka!"  
Shit, he knew the trick. I shrugged my shoulders. I should have been really scared because BOY was I in trouble but honestly, it was all sort of funny. We were all just staring at each other, standing around the living room as if there weren't chairs. Speaking of chairs, I should put it back. I headed into the kitchen.  
"Where is he going?" my dad asked.  
"Mike, Mike, honey I don't know. Look, I know you're mad but what are we going to do? This is not like him, this is not Mitch."  
I was so amused. I missed a little bit of their conversation when I went into the dining room but I came back and lay down on the couch. I was so sleepy.  
"Mitch?" My mom pushed my legs over and sat down. "Is it the therapy? Is it Scott?"  
Yes, Scott! It was Scott. I just needed to convince them that talking to him would fix this. I nodded and pointed towards his house. Unfortunately it was in the general direction of the television.  
"TV?" she asked.  
"I can't believe he ruined my vodka" my father mumbled.  
No. "Slim." It was the closest thing in the rap I could think of.  
"Slim? Therapy?" she asked, confused.  
No.  
"Scott? Is 'Slim' Scott?" she tried again.  
I nodded. Finally.  
"This is HIS FAULT!??" my dad yelled. "What went on at that singing competition? Were you two drinking? Partying?"  
It was probably better for him to think that than what had actually happened but I didn't want him thinking badly of Scott.  
"NO!"  
They both looked at me, it was the first time I'd said 'no' properly, at least when I meant to.  
"No Slim" and I mimicked drinking. "Aah, no I... I real..." and I gave up and signed 'phone'.  
"He wants to call Scott" my mom translated for my dad. "He's been asking to but we discussed it and said this weekend, right Mitch?"  
"Mitch, you should go to bed. We can talk about this and deal with it tomorrow. You have school and it's getting late." My father was being so reasonable and I was really, really tired.   
I didn't know how I was going to make it the whole way upstairs so I just closed my eyes.  
"In YOUR bed Mitchell." He wasn't having it. "Actually, wait just a minute."  
The flash was bright even with my eyes closed and I opened them to find him standing over me with a smile on his face.  
"Just a little blackmail. I have you in the bathtub as a baby, wearing more lipstick than a Vegas showgirl when you were about four, and now drunk and passed out on a couch" my father joked. "Your wedding will be something to remember."  
Of course it would, but not because of those pictures. It was going to be the party of the century. I had it planned and it was only to be outdone by the epic gala that would be my funeral. I had a whole folder made up for my mom or whoever ended up throwing it -- color schemes, music, decorations, everything. Don't judge, I had a lot of free time with the whole 'having no friends' thing.  
"Mitch" my mother said gently "Get on up to bed now. Drink some water first, you're not going to feel so good in the morning. You might want to put a trashcan by your bed."   
Whatever. She was crazy; I felt amazing. Just tired. "Lissss" Or night, you know, whatever.

 

 

"MITCH!" he yelled, my bedroom door banging against the wall with the force of his entry. "HI!!"   
Oh god. OH God. OH GOD. Owwwwwwww. I tried to cover my ears but even my hands made my head hurt. Wait, wait! My eyes flew open but it took them a few seconds to focus through the blinding pain. Scott!  
"What are you doing in bed? It's time for school. Your mom said to come up and surprise you. Said I could be loud since your dad already left for work. Guess she knew I was a little excited. Hey, why aren't you happy to see me? What's wrong?"  
I climbed over him, not caring about anything except making it to the toilet in time to empty my stomach. God I was sick. Lightning struck my head every time I heaved. This was NOT okay. I heard his footsteps in the hall but he didn't knock, instead he headed downstairs.  
A few minutes later he knocked lightly, his fingertips tapping the door. "Do you need help?" he asked quietly.  
I reached over and opened the door from where I was sitting on the floor.  
"You're hungover!" he hissed, mostly amused. "Mitch, um, why? And how does your mom know? Did you get caught? I did this once and I thought I was going to die. I'm sorry you're sick."  
"Slim" I moaned.  
"Hey hey, that was a word! A very nice one" he said too loudly. He saw me flinch and quieted back down. "But uh, what's slim?"  
I pointed at him.  
"Is that Mitch for 'Scott'? Cause if so you're gonna need a nickname too. I'll think of something. Or do you mean my zipper's down? Why don't you let me help you back to bed? I'll bring the trashcan."  
I mostly hobbled back, keeping my eyes closed as much as possible. I hoped he wouldn't run me into a wall. I didn't let him go when he tried to put me back on the bed so we ended up laying down together. It hurt too much to lay on him though so I rested my aching head on my pointy, gagged, hard pillow again.  
"I hate to do this but I really have to get to school. I've missed a ton and there are only three weeks left for me to catch up. Let me get you some water and stuff, okay? Maybe you'll feel better later and you can come in? If not, I'll stop over after school and check on you."  
I obviously didn't want him to leave and I hated myself right now for last night and ruining our reunion. He was back though and that was going to have to be enough. "My no I... real.. Slim..." Thoughts played ping-pong in my bruised head: I really missed you. I'm so glad you're back. I'll try to get to class because I don't want to be away from you. What happened with your grandfather? Is he okay? I tried to contact you, I really did. I got your note but I couldn't get my phone. I'm sorry. But none of that came out. It was time to go pray at the porcelain altar again. I swear that I will never, ever drink another drop of vodka.  
*** *** ***  
"How are you feeling Mitchell?" My mom was sitting at the dining room table, a cup of coffee in her hands.  
I didn't expect to see her. Uh oh, we were still using my full name. I pointed to my head and my stomach.  
"Sit down. I'll get you some crackers." It wasn't a request.  
I listened. I wasn't sure I could eat anything but she probably had more experience with this than I did.  
"I'm disappointed in you."  
Of course you are.   
"I'm in a very awkward, difficult place Mitch and I don't want to be here. I refuse to undermine your therapy but I can not have you acting like this. You obviously need help with something and I can't just hand you a notepad and work it out. I want to yell at you for an hour but you can't respond and that's not fair. But son, one way or another, you need to tell me what's going on with you. I stayed home today so I have all the time in the world. Why were you drinking last night?"  
How did she think I was going to tell her?  
"Is it because I wouldn't give you your phone?"  
I shrugged my shoulders. Maybe. "Yah. Br no all."  
"But not all? That's part of it but not the whole reason?"  
"Yah. My..yy Iii no" I was frustrated.  
"It's okay. You're doing great."  
I smashed my fist against the table. It wasn't hard but it still hurt. Who did she think she was she kidding?  
"No, Mitch, listen to me... you are doing GREAT."  
She was looking at me like she could see my soul, my heart, my frustration. "I" and then I switched to sign 'want talk but can't.'  
"You ARE talking, Mitch. The first time you learned, as a baby, it took a lot more than a week and a half and it will this time too. You have to keep trying. Don't give up on yourself. You're making progress and that's all that matters. It doesn't have to be quick or constant progress to count.  
She didn't get it. I mean she did parts, but not the whole. I had to fingerspell it, I didn't know the sign for 'lonely' but I needed her to know I was. I pointed at her and then flicked my finger away. 'Slim' then away again.  
She was staring at me and I wasn't sure who was going to cry first. It ended up being me.

 

 

I'd been waiting and when I knew it was almost time for the bus to arrive I pulled back my curtain and peered down the street. Finally I saw the bus pass by and a few minutes later he came walking towards the house, his book bag so stuffed that they could probably see it from the space station. I went downstairs and opened the door.  
"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked quietly.  
I should have said, or tried to say 'better' but I was suddenly really, really nervous. I hadn't really talked in front of him yet. I'd said 'slim' this morning and we'd done the whole tickling episode, but I suddenly worried that he really didn't know just how bad it was. I was going to make a fool of myself and I had no right to expect him to put up with me. It was annoying enough when I had to write everything and now---  
"Earth to Mitch. Maybe you should go back to bed."  
"Hello Slim" I did it! That was great. Thank god. I reached out to take his bag, he was literally leaning over due to the weight. He kept a tight hold on it though.  
His eyes lit up and he pulled me into a hug. "Holy shit Mitch!" he whispered. "Hello to you, too." He released me before asking: "Your mom still home?"  
I nodded gently, although I didn't see her. I pointed upstairs towards my room.  
"She's upstairs? Can we take over the table? Any chance you can go over some trig with me or will your head explode and your brain start leaking out of your nose?"  
No, I wanted him to myself. I wanted US upstairs. "No, slim" and I pointed up again.  
"You want us to go up? Okay. Here, can you carry this?" He handed me the trig book and followed me up the stairs rather slowly. Once we were in my room he collapsed on my bed. "My baaaack" he whined. "Books are so heavy!"  
I wondered why he thought he needed them ALL tonight but there wasn't play practice so he would have time to get a lot done. We weren't exactly flying through trig though.  
"Did you get my note? I'm sorry I had to leave school without seeing you" he mumbled half into the mattress. "We had to move them into a rehab center apartment. Um, assisted living, that's it. So we moved their entire house. We did most of it while he was still in the hospital but my grandmother was a mess. Gramps isn't doing well, he had to have surgery and he's so weak and old-looking now. It's weird. Aging."  
I nodded and sat on the bed next to him and started rubbing his shoulders.  
"That feels so good, please keep going. I'll pay you."  
You couldn't have paid me enough to STOP touching him. I wanted to be close, I needed him. What I really wanted was a kiss. I leaned down and pecked his cheek, hoping he'd get the hint. He didn't move though, only smiled.  
"Missed you like crazy Mitch. I kept my phone charged the whole time, even slept with it under my pillow just in case you could get yours. I get it though, it's okay and all. Not trying to guilt-trip you or anything. I just missed you. I was worried about the whole therapy thing and how you were doing but I shouldn't have been, you're doing great." And just that quick he was up again. Boy never stayed still. "So how are you? What did I miss?"  
He missed that I couldn't really talk. "I.... nu num nother nothing." I nodded, that was it. Nothing. And then I waited. For him to realize what a lost cause I was, or laugh, or worse look at me like... it's a hard look to describe. But I've seen it. A lot. I didn't want to see it on his face though.  
"I didn't miss anything?" It was the same Scott, he didn't even seem phased by my sucktastic talking.  
I nodded.  
"I missed you getting DRUNK. Hello!"  
Oh, his letters! I jumped up and ran over to my desk, grabbing the manila envelope I'd kept them in. I handed them over and he took them even though he seemed confused.  
He slid them out and started flipping through the pages. "You wrote all of this to me?"  
Yes.  
"In a week?"  
Yes.  
"Well I guess I'm not getting any homework done tonight."  
Not what I wanted. I practically climbed on top of him and tried to take them back but he stuck his arm out towards the wall and I couldn't reach.  
"Nuh uh, you gave them to me and I'm going to read them. Back off, bucko." He realized right then that I was practically straddling his lap. I saw the recognition all over his face. He dropped the papers carefully and pulled me into a kiss that lasted for about twenty minutes.  
"MITCH!" my father yelled from downstairs.  
I jumped up, frantic. I smoothed my shirt, made sure my zipper was still up and that I was presentable before practically running down the stairs.  
"Mitch, go mow the yard. After dinner you're going to do the dishes. Got it?"  
I was stupid to think he was going to let me get away with last night. I nodded and then pointed upstairs. "Ssss Slim"  
"Oh, Scott? Tell him good-bye and then head outside."  
I told myself that it was for the best and he needed to get caught up on school work. He was just finishing packing up his bag when I walked in.  
"I heard. I'll see you at school tomorrow?"  
Yes. Absolutely.

 

 

The next few weeks flew by. Now that Scott was back everything just seemed easier. He was super busy with make-up work and the play so I decided that I needed to weasel my way into play practice. It was the easiest way to spend time with him. He got me a job helping with the lights which was actually really amazing. Looking down at the stage from up in the rafters was a lot of fun and I learned a lot. Plus, I got to stare at him every time he stepped foot out from behind the curtain and I did not mind that a bit.  
We'd done six shows and had two more to go; the last show was going to be this Friday and then next week was finals. The seniors were pretty much already gone; at least half were out of school on any given day. Graduation was Saturday and they didn't care. I didn't blame them; I wanted to be finished too.  
His parents were easing up on him, slowly. I guess he'd been right, it just took them a little time to get used to everything. There were no sleepovers but I was allowed back in his room and I spent a lot of time laying on his bed watching movies while he did homework next to me. It was just about the favorite part of my day.  
We snuck in some one-on-one time too, just he and I. It felt amazing to be close to him and block out the rest of the world. We hadn't risked going all the way again, that was not something either of us wanted to do while we were scared of getting caught. Besides, his parents would have NEVER forgiven us and that was NOT the way I wanted to come out to my dad.  
My dad had finally gotten over the drinking incident although he did make me do chores all week. I didn't blame him, I had really messed up. And even better, guess what was in my bag? My phone. Yep. I had promised my mom not to use it to talk to people in the same room and I'd made so much progress that she trusted me with it. I'd missed my 'goodnight' texts from Scott so much and was immediately 10 times happier.  
I didn't wake up one morning miraculously speaking as well as I had before the stroke, but once I had the first dozen words the next 100 followed easily. Well, easy for me. I still had to think out my sentences and I found myself trying to rework what I wanted to say so that I could use words I knew. Mrs. Maldonado had figured that out pretty quickly though and had me reading out loud to her for part of my sessions.  
There were still lots of things that gave me trouble and a few that were still impossible. Names. I don't know why, but I couldn't wrap my head around names. Numbers. They were different than the other stuff I had trouble with though, they simply weren't there. If you asked me how old I was I could write it easily but the number wasn't even in my head. I couldn't even THINK fifteen. It was weird, but I was trying not to worry about it. Tenses. I had a really hard time conjugating verbs and stuff but it was random. I got them mixed up within sentences and sounded like a foreign exchange student. That wasn't really fair to the German students because their English was probably better than mine.  
But you know what? I didn't care. I didn't give a rat's ass, as my mom would say, that it wasn't perfect. I felt like I could get through the day, you know? As long as people gave me time and I didn't try to recite the Declaration of Independence or anything, I could manage. Of course I still got frustrated with myself but I guess I had finally accepted the fact that I was getting better; CIT was helping.  
Scott had been amazing. We'd gone to Burger King last weekend and he had refused to order for me but he'd stayed right by my side and helped me when I got flustered by 'milkshake'. I'd done it though, and if push came to shove and I had to, I knew I could do it alone. He seemed to know that I was nervous about doing everything for the first time and he managed to make me do things without being pushy. Well, not TOO pushy anyway.  
I don't know how he managed to not laugh at me through all my stuttering and mistakes. He'd only laughed once and I'd laughed first because I had accidentally said 'It doesn't udder bitch' instead of 'matter much'. He'd held it together until I said 'moo' but he'd ended up on the floor. I had too, it was nice to release some tension and we had made up cow jokes for days. Most of them weren't even funny; we were annoying to everyone but ourselves. I didn't care; our own tiny world was safe and amazing and I hated every single time I had to leave it.  
Summer was coming quickly and so was the end of dad's 6-month contract at work. I was trying not to think about it but how could I not? I was going to spend every single second I could with Scott and hope for the best. I'd tried to ask dad how he felt about the chance of getting an extension or even better a permanent placement but he brushed me off. I got it, he didn't want to think about it any more than I did and he had no control over it. 

 

 

The curtain closed for the final time and I started helping to reset all the lights and generally clean up the mess we'd made over the past few weeks.  Most of the crew split out of there as soon as the lights came up but Bailey was still with me which was good because I wasn't 100% sure where some of these cords went.  
"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.  
"Yes."  
"Are you and Scott" he said softly, looking over his shoulder before continuing "together?  Like gay together?  Or just friends?  Cause people are talking."  
I didn't know what to say.  We had tried really hard to not be too obvious but apparently we hadn't done as good of a job as we thought.  I didn't know where Scott stood with the whole 'telling people' thing or where Bailey stood with the whole 'acceptance' thing.  The stage was a long way down.  Not that I really thought he'd murder me or anything but I admit that it flashed through my head.  "We... uh..."  
"Don't bother, no need.  It's sort of obvious.  I know the whole talking thing is hard for you.  Never mind."  
I could have answered him.  I had words, I just didn't know what to say.  But maybe it was for the best this way.  I felt a little guilty using my muteness as an excuse but hell, why not?  I needed to talk to Scott about this at some point, before I got asked again.  I tidied the cords and then waved good-bye and made my way down the ladder.  
"Mitch!  There you are."  Scott had changed back into his clothes and was super thrilled to be done.  
"You was amazing.  Real good."  Close enough.  
"Thanks!  You only blinded me once, so that was an improvement" he joked.  "No, seriously, it was great I think -- everyone was amazing.  You're coming to the cast party, right?  Please?"  
I hadn't really planned on it but there was no way I could look at that face and say 'no' without even asking permission.  I grabbed my phone and sent off a text.  Mom answered right away; it was fine.  "Okay."  
"Awesome!  We can ride with Jamie, let's find her.  We're going to go take over Applebees.  I am STARVING."  
*** *** ***  
Three hours later we were climbing out of Jamie's car next to the fish mailbox and watching it drive away.  The dinner and crazy post-show insanity had been a blast.  I'd actually felt included and people had talked to me.  It still amazed me every time someone made an effort and asked me a question -- I was used to people ignoring me as much as possible. I didn't blame them, it wasn't exactly easy to have a conversation with me before now.  Still, it felt really nice.  
It was dark and very late; past 11.  I really needed to get home.  I looked up the street towards my house and then the other way towards Scott's.  
"Why don't I walk you home?" he offered.  
He didn't have to but it meant getting to hold his hand longer and I was more than happy to let him as long as it wouldn't get him in trouble.  "Is late."  
"I don't have to be back till midnight, they sort of expected it to be a late night.  No worries."  
"Okay.  Good."  We stopped a few houses before mine and kissed.  I'd been wanting to do it all evening and I finally got my chance.  What I really wanted was to run down by the creek and have a little fun but he pulled away even though I know he didn't want to.  
"We should get home.  I'll talk to you tomorrow?"  
"Yes."  
"G'night Mitchy."   He gave me one more sweet kiss on my cheek that made me blush.  
"Night Slim."  I started walking and turned back just before I went up the short sidewalk to my door.  I waved and he took off towards home.  I watched him just a moment and caught sight of him when he passed beneath the streetlight but then he was gone.  
It took me about five steps before I could see it.  The front of the house was fairly bright near the living room entrance because of the porch light but the other side was much darker.  When I got close enough it was obvious though.  Someone had left me a message.  It wasn't hard to guess who, the question was what I could do about it.  I walked over and touched it, hoping it was still wet.  A bit of black paint came off on my finger and I stared at it before finally going inside.  
I went into the kitchen and grabbed the mop bucket from the pantry and filled it with hot soapy water, then grabbed the scrubbiest sponge I could find.  I scrubbed at those vile letters for what felt like an hour, until my arms throbbed and hurt.  I didn't even notice the front door open.  
"Mitch?  Is that you?" my father asked.  "What are you doing?"

 

 

 

What was there to say? Nothing. "It me Dad. Fine. You can go."  
"Mitchell?" He took a few more steps off the porch and came closer. "I don't have my glasses, what does it say?"  
"Ffig.. Faa" but I couldn't quite get the last 'g' on there. "F-A-G"  
"Ah." He was quiet for a minute or two and I started to panic. "Well, if it's paint there's probably not much we can do tonight. Are there eggs? Because eggs are MUCH easier to clean up before the sun hits them."  
"No. I don't think there is. But hard to see dark."  
"Alright then son, come inside. We can deal with the rest of this in the morning."  
I followed behind him and took the bucket to the kitchen and dumped it. The sponge was shredded and my hands didn't look much better; I'd scraped them on the siding more than once.  
"Mitch?" He was in the doorframe, looking at me.   
I tried to look at him but I couldn't quite do it. I felt awful. He'd given up so much for me and done everything he could to take care of me and I'd repaid him by getting his house vandalized.   
"Paint is fixable."  
But I'm not. I'm going to disappoint you yet again. I had to say something though, he was expecting an answer or some sort of acknowledgement. That was one good thing about my previous lack of speech; he would have left it at that. Now though? Not happening. "Sorry."  
"Goodnight."  
"Night." I watched him head up the stairs, trying to remember when I had gotten taller than him. Everything felt very mixed up. I got myself a drink of water and then headed upstairs too; morning was coming.  
*** *** ***  
My folks were both at the table when I came downstairs. Dad was working on something out of his briefcase and mom was reading a paperback; probably a cheesy romance novel. They had both eaten but just left their dishes on the table so it must have been recently. "Morning."  
"Hey baby" mom cooed. "Are you alright?"  
I nodded yes and headed towards the front door. I wanted to see how bad it was in the daylight. Dad had hung a tarp to hide the evidence so I lifted up the side carefully. Wow, it was really big and still really... well.... there. It was smudged and the whole area around it was gray thanks to my scrubbing, but I hadn't actually accomplished much. I dropped the tarp quickly and headed back inside. I didn't want to look at it any more. In the living room I pulled out my phone, suddenly realizing that Scott's house may have been done too.  
Mitch: Did you get a message last night?  
Scott: From you? Huh? Morning.   
Mitch: On your house.  
Scott: On my house?  
He was SO not awake. It was cute.  
Mitch: Mine says FAG in spray paint.  
Scott: WHAT? Hold on.  
I could imagine him throwing on clothes and running down his stairs. I crossed my fingers that he wouldn't find anything. It took him longer than I thought to answer back and I started to worry that my prayers hadn't been answered. Then there was a knock at the door. "Slim?" I asked. He was absolutely straight out of bed. He had on a tank and basketball shorts and his hair was a mess.  
"Are you okay?" he asked, breathless.  
"Yeah. Um.... house not but I'm fine. You? Your house?"  
"Nothing. I ran around it twice and then headed over here." He looked around and then whispered "Are they mad? Did you tell your dad?"  
"Not talked. But will today. I will tell you how it... what happens."  
"Okay. I should get back before they start wondering where I am. I'll talk to you later, right?"  
I nodded and shut the door behind him. I stood there a few moments until my mom came up behind me and put her hand on my shoulder.  
"I think it's time to tell him. Don't you?"  
"Scared."  
"I know. I'll stay or go, whatever you want. But you need to talk to him Mitch."  
"Sorry about house."  
"That's not your fault so don't worry about it. I'm sure they make something to get paint off vinyl. If not, I guess we'll be putting a window in."   
She said it so smoothly that it took me a minute to realize what she meant and then I couldn't help but laugh. "You're the best."  
"I know. I have to be amazing to hang around with you two brilliant men. Now, get yourself something to eat and go talk to your father."  
"You stay please? Sit with me?"  
"Sure sweetie. I'll be there in five minutes, alright?"  
I felt her hand slip off my shoulder and part of me wanted to run out the front door and not come back. The thing was, I wasn't really used to running from things. I had a lot of practice at taking what came to me, one day at a time. I guess this would be no different.

 

 

I grabbed a muffin from the basket in the kitchen and sat at the table.  I wasn't sure what mom was up to but there was no way I was starting this conversation without her.  
"It wasn't random, was it?" he asked without even looking up from his paperwork.  
Random? That they'd done my house?  The word they chose?  "No."  
"I see."  
I couldn't move, I literally couldn't even force my eyes to turn down towards my muffin.  My hands couldn't unwrap it.   My mouth managed to open and close a few times but no words came out.  That part was probably for the best.  Didn't he realize how awful this was for me?  Did he expect me to say something or just wait for his decree?  "I'm sorry."  
"So am I.  This is not a lifestyle I would choose for you."  
I didn't really choose it either.  I would be straight if I could, who wouldn't?  Oh I will admit that Pride parades looked like a lot of fun and gay men sure did know how to tear it up at a club, at least in the movies and on Queer as Folk, but would I rather NOT have people writing 'fag' on my house?  Would I prefer to not worry about people's reactions?  Of course.  I didn't want to give up Scott, that's not what I meant but... I was saved by my mother walking in.  
"Started without me?" she asked, setting a fresh cup of coffee in front of my father.  "What did I miss?"  
"Just the fact that he's a homosexual, if you weren't already aware" he answered, finally looking towards her and waiting for her response.  
"I figured it out fairly recently.  He wanted you to know too Mike, but he was concerned about your reaction.  This isn't an easy thing for a child to do, to tell his father this."  
"He didn't tell me, someone with a spray can did.  Does everyone at school know, Mitch?"  
I tried to put my thoughts together before I opened my mouth but it didn't help much.  "No.  I.... I tried not to... but at the the play Brr bbb uh some one ask."  I was stuttering and sounding like a fool.  My speech had regressed to where I'd been weeks ago but I was so nervous that I was surprised I was managing to talk at all.  
"I figured it out so I'm not surprised some other people have too" my mom answered, completely unflustered.  "Mike?"  
"What do you want me to say Nel?  Maybe I'll go into the office for awhile.  I'll stop at the store and see what they have to help with the clean-up too.  I need to talk to Reverend Graham, I know he's often at the church on Saturday morning, maybe I can catch him."  He stood up and shoved a few things back into his brief case.  
"Daaad I... I didn't---" but he was striding towards the door.  
"Michael, do NOT walk away from your son when he is talking to you.  We have worked TOO hard for this for you to turn your back.  He is TALKING to you."  She didn't yell, my mother never had to.  Her tone of voice stopped him in his tracks.  
He turned and looked at me and the expression on his face made my heart race.  My breathing sped up but I couldn't get enough air.  
"Go ahead" he demanded.  
I couldn't though.  I was in full-on panic attack mode and it was barreling towards me at the speed of light.  My throat closed up and I couldn't swallow.  My lips were dry but I couldn't control my tongue or slow it down enough to even handle that problem.  
"Mitch, it's okay dear."  Mom reached her hand out and placed it on top of my fist, trying to reassure me.  
"I... not... uy.... buh buh I...."  I wanted to say a million things but I decided to settle for 'sorry'.  I focused but that seemed to just make everything more tense.  I couldn't do it.  I couldn't .  I pushed my chair back and dashed upstairs, locking the door behind me.  I threw myself on the bed and curled up into a ball, trying to slow myself down and relax enough to at least breathe properly.  
The knock on my door came about five minutes later, not long after I heard the car pull away.  "Mitch?  Can I come in?"  Mom was trying, I knew that, but she was the one who'd told me it would be okay.  She said he wouldn't hate me but she was wrong and there wasn't anything she could tell me right now that would make that okay.  
"No.  Please go" I managed to say.  
"It'll be okay Mitch, I promise.  He just needs some time.  Everything is alright."  
"No not!"  
"I'll be downstairs if you want to talk or need anything."  She sounded sad, or maybe just worried.    
I waited a few more minutes before I walked over to my desk and grabbed my phone.  I needed Scott.  I needed him right now.

 

 

*** PG-13. Nothing much.  
Mitch: Please be home. Can you meet me at the rock?  
Scott: Sorry I'm not :( eta 2 hours. So sorry. You okay?  
Mitch: No but I can hide until in my room until then. He completely flipped and left.  
Scott: NO!  
Mitch: Well he didn't flip, but he was mad. He hates me.  
Scott: Impossible. He'll come around. My folks did.  
Mitch: Yours didn't have religion as an excuse.  
Scott: Hello we're CATHOLIC  
Mitch: So is GaGa  
Scott: You're amazing and I love you.  
Mitch: You're the only one.  
Scott: Didn't mom help you?  
Mitch: Yeah but dad was dad. I knew it would happen like this.  
Scott: We're leaving, mom is going to drop me home. 15 minutes  
Mitch: Thank god. I'll be at the rock.  
Scott: Don't have to, dad isn't home. Just come over.  
Mitch: Even better!  
I jumped up and went to the desk, then sat back on my bed. There was really no room to pace in here. I stared at the collage I'd done on one wall, then decided that I may as well get out now in case mom held me up.  
"Mitch?"  
I hadn't seen her sitting there, but she had probably been waiting for me for the past hour. "Hi. I'm go to Slim house okay?"  
"I get that you want to be with him right now. But this is your home and you are welcome and wanted here. Okay? We both love you very much."  
Both? I wasn't so sure about that. "Thanks."  
"Be home for dinner."  
I almost argued and she noticed.  
"Home for dinner Mitch. We're having dinner tonight as a family so don't bring Scott over here either."  
"Okay." It wasn't worth fighting over. I wondered if she'd told my dad the same thing; I wouldn't have been surprised if he slept in the church.  
*** *** ***  
I watched from across the street as his mom's car pulled into their driveway. Mr. Long legs got out and went inside and then her car turned and headed back down the street. I waited about 45 seconds and dashed over. He pulled me into his arms as soon as I was inside and I nuzzled against his chest.  
"Watch your little claws" he teased. "You're okay Mitchy, it's going to be alright."  
I loosened my grip but didn't let him go. "Need you. Your room?"  
"Yeah, we can go up. I'm worried about you. What happened?"  
I didn't answer, just headed upstairs. I curled up in his bed and motioned for him to join me. "He say I um pick a bad life and is mad people know and and nothing. It was wasn't his words he was just sad and I feel bad."  
"Where'd he go?"  
"Work and ch ch--" I made my 'carry on' motion and he filled in the word for me.  
"Church"  
"Yeah. And he go store for stuff for house. I don't know. As far from me as. Did that make sense?"  
"It was right, I think, yeah. As far from you as..."  
"As he can."  
"Give him some time. I know, trust me, I KNOW how much this sucks right now. I'm so sorry. But it'll work out, it will."  
I reached for him, my hand sliding down his chest and towards his zipper.  
"Mitch?"  
"Hi." I rolled closer, wanting more contact. We had the house to ourselves, why shouldn't we take advantage of it?  I knew it was crazy but I needed to know I was wanted, that I wasn't disgusting or hated.   
"Not today. Not right now."  
"Want you Slim. All of you. You have still um, your brown bag?"  
"You're... wow. Babe? You don't--"  
I cut him off by kissing him. We were grinding against each other and our hands were everywhere by the time I finally let him go long enough for us to catch our breath.  
"God Mitch. You KNOW I want but--"  
"Want." I went for his neck this time, working my way up towards his ear. "Have time. Have place."  
"I know, I know. God babe and I want to but I'm worried about you and fine, damn boy, screw it. But no sex, just getting off okay? I want to make you feel good."  
*** *** ***  
I dragged myself out of his bed as soon as the movie was over. I needed to get home even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. I would have gladly slept at his place for oh, ever.  
"Tomorrow's Sunday. Think they'll relax on the 'family' day thing and let you out?"  
"No. But maybe yes. I don't know."  
"Well charge your phone just in case they don't."  
"Always do."  
"Mitch, try not to worry and try not to feel bad. You didn't do anything wrong. Who you are is amazing and it will work out."  
"Nice to say. I'll try. Thank you for... for today and just you. For you." I don't think I'd ever walked home as slowly as I did that evening. When I rounded the corner I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at my house. The tarp was down and the graffiti was exposed for the whole world to see. I didn't know what it meant and I wasn't sure what to do. I knew I couldn't stay here forever though, so I went inside.

 

 

I got almost the same reaction walking into my house as I had going into Scott's. This time I was the taller one though. He didn't hug small, my dad; he put all of himself into it. He always had and I was glad that it hadn't changed.  
"I'm sorry" he said, still grasping my shoulders.  
He finally released me and I looked at him, utterly confused. "Outside the...cover it fell."  
"The tarp? No, the tarp didn't fall, I took it down."  
"Why?"  
"Come sit down, please. Mitch, I took it down because what is written on the side of our house says absolutely nothing about the people who live here. It says a lot about whoever wrote it, but nothing about you. We'll get it cleaned up though because one, we don't own the house and two, it obviously bothers you or you wouldn't have spent heaven-only-knows how long trying to wash it off the other night. I got some spray that they tell me will make quick work of it and we'll give it a go tomorrow. Will you help me clean it up after church?"  
"Yes..." I shook my head to clear it. "I'm sorry."  
"You didn't paint it and it's not your fault. I'm the only one who should be apologizing here. I love you Mitch and if you're gay that's fine. I don't mean 'if' like you don't know your own mind, I'm just saying that all the pieces that make you, YOU, are fine. More than fine, actually."  
"What happen? Why you.. why is it okay now?"  
"I was upset when I left here earlier, I admit it. I headed to church, hoping to find Reverend Graham. I thought he would commiserate with me and help me feel a bit less alone or, I don't know, I just needed guidance. Some words of wisdom. Well he was there and we went into his office. I told him about the paint and what had happened over breakfast and asked him what I should do. Instead of telling me though, he asked me some questions. We talked about the bible and homosexuality which let me tell you, wasn't a very long conversation."  
My mom brought us drinks and sat down next to me. I was glad to have her there.  
"And then he asked me what I thought Jesus would do in my place, in my shoes. Mitch, I was still angry and I wanted to say to Reverend Graham that he would have acted the way I did but I couldn't. How could I? It would have been a lie. Because son, my Jesus sat with lepers and prostitutes and thieves. He told us to treat others how we wanted to be treated. He admonished us to take care of our families and our children. Nel, do we need to go into dinner?"  
"No, no, take your time. It can rest a bit."  
"So Mitch, I'm sorry. It is not my place to judge you. You're a good kid, a good person and who you love doesn't change that. I was so worried about what other people would think of me and of my gay kid that I forgot that what YOU think of me is more important. Even more important than that is what that man upstairs thinks of me. There is not a doubt in my mind or my heart that he likes what he's seeing right now. I hope you can forgive me."  
"Yes. Is okay dad."   
Mom leaned her head on my shoulder a moment before hopping up. "Now that that's settled, let's go eat. We can talk in there just as well as here."  
I had just finished my salad when he blurted out "Is Scott gay too? Or no? Does he know about you? Is that why you don't spend the night over there any more?"  
My mom chuckled but made me answer. "Slim is... yes. He's my boy...friend. His mom and dad know and.... downee don't want us to sleep to-together."  
"I see. I guess that does affect things, doesn't it? Your mother and I will have to come up with some ground rules for the two of you." He took three bites before he continued. "Nel, this is really good. So that's why you missed him so much that week he was away, eh?"  
"Yes."  
"And why you asked about the job extension."  
"Yes."  
"Scott's gay?"  
"Yes."  
"Huh."  
I wasn't sure what that meant but I wasn't going to push. I couldn't believe that he seemed so accepting now when he'd been apeshit less than 12 hours ago. I owed Reverend Graham flowers or something. Maybe I should have mom invite him to dinner and thank him with food.  
"Mitch you're going to have to hold my hand and guide me through some of this. I'm gonna follow your lead though, alright? I'll be right behind you one hundred percent."  
My mom was giving him lovey-dovey eyes. "I love you Mike" she said. They were sweet almost to the point of sickening. I wonder if they knew how lucky they were? Yeah, they probably did.

 

 

This, my dear readers, is where you must choose which direction to go and how you want this to end.  I'm going to write two endings to 'Mute Songbird' because I truly believe that it could go in two very different directions.  
So, the next chapter of MUTE, 'Ending 1' is the way I think the book should end.  It's the ending I had in mind when I began this journey with all of you.  You may disagree with me though and that's okay.  It may not be what you would have chosen or a finish you're happy with.  If you hate it, you can pretend it was just a dream they woke up from.  
Then I'll write an alternate ending, 'Ending 2' and post that as well, for those who aren't happy with the original ending.  Fair?  
At the end will be a brand new epilogue that fits after ending 2. It sounds a little bit confusing but I promise it will make sense once it happens :-)  
I just want to reiterate that I am so touched and seriously fangirling over all of you because you've made this SO much fun to write.  I'm so glad you all enjoyed it!!!  
So farewell to Mitch and Slim -- it was so nice getting to know you.  
Take care of yourselves,  
Deanne


	5. Ending One

He stared into the locker long after the final bell rang and the halls started clearing out. He was almost afraid to touch the books inside and the pictures and notes taped to the sides and the door were even worse. He didn't want to leave them here though so they had to come down. He quickly grabbed the text books and left them in a pile on the floor. One of the teachers or a janitor would find them and handle it. They weren't what he was here for.  
"Hey, we just wanted to say how sorry we are." A group of kids from his English class stopped by on their way out of the building, taking a few moments away from their precious summer break.   
He just nodded and turned back towards the door, pretending to fix his hair in the attached mirror before reaching towards it. He didn't feel real, nothing did.  
"Um, so if you need anything. Let us know" Ricky said.  
"Yeah, we're so sorry" one of the girls added.  
"Was he really on his way to your house?" Brad asked before getting smacked in the arm by one of the other guys.  
"Dude, you can't talk about that! RUDE!!"  
Scott wasn't really paying them any attention, his mind was filled with the same scene it had replayed countless times over the past four days. Their last texts were still on his phone; him laying on his bed being lazy while Mitch gushed over Mike's change of heart and how they'd talked and gotten the house all cleaned up that afternoon. Their shared amazement that Mike had let him leave the house on a Sunday, even though it was family day, because he knew how much they wanted to see each other. Arguing good naturedly over what to watch and that Mitch would see him soon and to not start the movie without him.  
Even though Scott hadn't seen the accident he knew exactly where it had happened. He'd walked the long way to the bus stop this morning because he couldn't bear to go past the corner where the drunk driver had hit Mitch. His parents told him that in his drunken stupor, the driver had forgotten to turn his headlights on and that Mitch couldn't have seen him coming fast enough. They'd said he died instantly and that he hadn't suffered.  
It didn't matter though because nothing did anymore. He carefully peeled down a picture Mitch had taken of their rock. He'd said once that sometimes when he felt overwhelmed he would look at it and try to remember how he felt there. It was their happy place. Scott had tried to go yesterday, wanting to feel that sense of calm, but his feet refused to move once he turned onto the path. He didn't think he'd ever go back; the photo would have to do.  
There were many things he couldn't imagine ever doing again. Parts of himself that he was sure had died with Mitch. He'd wished over and over that it had been him instead and it could have been if he hadn't whined to Mitch about already being in his pajamas. If Mitch were still here, he would be able recover. Mitch was strong enough to get through anything, to do anything, to become anything. Scott wasn't. He knew that.   
He took down a picture that Mitch had taken of him from the rafters during play practice. He wanted to believe in heaven, to think that Mitch had the same view now. It didn't matter though, really. Either Mitch was dead and gone or he was in heaven; either way he was safe and happy enough. Scott was the one stuck here alone and miserable.  
"Scott, you're here!"  
He stared at Bailey who had caused Mitch so much grief.  
"I just wanted you to know that it wasn't me. I was trying to warn him, I.... well I am too. Okay? Please don't tell anyone. I heard people talking and... I'm so sorry Scott. I really am."  
Scott watched him walk away, trying to pretend that it was Mitch instead and that they would see each other again soon.  
"Scott?" Mrs. Maldonado put her hand on his elbow. "I'm so sorry about Mitch. Are you okay?"  
He shrugged his shoulders, it had become his standard response during the past few days.  
"I know you're hurting right now but not talking about it won't help. You need to speak, Scott. Mitch would want you to."  
Her words felt like a hot knife in his chest. What did she know? Did she think he didn't know that? Did she think that Scott was doing this FOR Mitch? No, he was doing it for himself. He'd helped Mitch find his voice again and what they'd shared had made each of them better and stronger. Now that Mitch was gone he felt like all the music had been snuffed out too. Words had been theirs, in lyrics, in whispers, in scribbles and in fingertips. The spoken words had been the least of their connection and until he could feel that way again he had no need of them. He wanted to keep Mitch close and this was the only way he knew how. He didn't know how to explain but he knew without a doubt that he would never speak again.  
"Scott, it'll get easier. Not soon, but someday."  
He shook his elbow free and reached for the last picture, a selfie of them that Mitch had gotten developed. Mitch was smiling, his cute dimple flashing. They'd been happy. Really happy. He didn't regret a single day. He told himself that Mitch had gotten to talk again and to love. It wasn't enough but it would have to do. Why did the brightest lights have to dim so quickly?  
Good-bye my songbird. I hope you're free.


	6. Ending TWO

*** i know there are a few of you who wish I had never posted the sad ending of Mute Songbird. Sorry but it was in my head and demanded to be written. I hope this one makes up for it. I think the grand majority of you will like this ending better.  
Honestly, ending one would have been the only ending if you guys hadn't loved the story so much.  What follows is done purely out of love for all of you.  Enjoy!

Mitch saw the car reflecting in the street light and jumped back quickly, then waited a few minutes before running across the street.  Idiots.  Or drunk maybe?  How could you drive around at night without lights and not notice?  Maybe they were trying to be cool or it was a dare?  He didn't care, it was Sunday and he was on his way to Scott's.  
He and his dad had spent two hours this afternoon cleaning up the house.  The magic spray they had used worked really well and they were both happy with the results.  Even better, things had seemed normal between them.  They'd talked about things other than the whole 'gay' thing which pleased him to no end.  
There were only a few days of school left and then summer stretched out before him brighter and bigger than the summer sky.  This was probably the last summer he'd have without a job and was the first where he'd been old enough to have some freedom and was able to communicate easily.  He wanted to do everything, but first he wanted to kiss his boyfriend.  "Hi" he said as Connie answered the door.  
"Hi Mitch.  He's upstairs.  Can you take the chips up with you?"  She grabbed the bag from the table and handed them over, smiling.  "Are you two really watching Jurassic Park again?"  
"Yeah, he love it."  
"You're sweet to put up with him.  Have fun."  
I hopped up the stairs and peeked my head in.  "Hi"  
"Get in here" he said, pushing 'play'.  "Snacks!  You're the best."  
"From mom."  
"Yeah, I know, but you carried them."  He turned towards me then and took my hand.  "I know I said it about fourteen times over text but I am so absolutely ridiculously happy for you.  I'm glad it worked out and he came around."  
"Same.  Thanks."  
He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it, then patted the bed next to him.  "Get comfy."  
I did and then glanced towards the door before getting a real kiss.  "You watch maybe I just kiss."  
"That is a damn nice way to watch a movie Mitch.  I like your plan."  He sank down a bit lower on the pillow so my head could rest more easily on his shoulder.  "I can't believe school is almost over.  One year to go.  I hope you're here for it."  
So did I.  Dad had told me that we'd find out any day now, the decision and paperwork had been sent all the way to the Japanese headquarters and his local boss was just waiting on approval.   
"But if you're not maybe I can go to college near you.  You'll have your license by then and I'll have a car and we'll make something work, okay?"  
He would do it, too.  I knew without a sliver of doubt that he would do everything in his power to make his way to me.  "Saah... Sss"  Why could I say 'not' but not 'Scott'?  "Slim?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I love you."  
"You said it!  I love you too Mitchy.  It'll work out, just like in the movies."  
"Not this one.  Hope" I joked.  
"No, no, not at all like this one.  Want to watch something mushy and happy instead?"  
"No it's okay.  What you want is fine.  I like... laying... with you."  My phone chirped and I opened it, glancing at the message.  
Mom:  Dad just heard straight from Tokyo.  How do you feel about going back to Martin in the fall?  
I jumped up and literally put my phone down for a second before picking it back up and rereading the message.  
Mitch:  Yes!  How long is the extension?  
Mom:  Permanent.  You know how that goes but it looks really good.  
Mitch:  I'm so happy!  Thanks.  Tell him congrats from me.  
Mom:  I will.  Home by 10, you have school even if it is the end of the year.  
I rolled over and wrapped up every inch of Scott that I could.  
"What is it?  Good?  Bad?"  He even paused the movie, he was worried.  
"Good" I mumbled. "He got job."  And then I was being crushed to death because he was hugging me even tighter than I'd been hugging him.  "Ow"  
"Sorry.  I was so scared."  
"Me too."  
"I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you, even for a year."  
"Glad I can... stay.  Scott?" And my entire brain froze as I tried to figure out if I had actually just said what I thought I did.  
"Yeah Mitch?" he asked, smiling brightly.  
I could do this, maybe.  I could say it right, the way it should be said.  "I love you Scott."  
He didn't answer right away, just managed to somehow pull me closer.  "I love you too Mitch.  I.. I don't know what to say.   There are words I never thought I'd hear from you and .... I mean in the beginning I never thought I'd hear any but... it's just amazing.  You amaze me.  You're the strongest, bravest, most amazing boy I've ever met and I love you too.  We're going to make some amazing music next year; the world won't know what hit it."  
"Will be nice.  I'll get... better.  You help me a lot."  
"You help me too my little songbird.  So much."  
"How?"  
"You make me happy.  What more is there?"  
He was right.  Through everything we'd been through, the ups and the downs, my muteness and reclaimed speech, Scott had made me happy too.  "Nothing.  Nothing more."


	7. Epilogue

** Two years later **  
Of course HE wasn't nervous, he'd been here a year already. That fact didn't magically take away my anxiety even though he seemed to think it should. "I remember last year you uh called me the whole way and refu... uh would not get out of car." I could do better than that but every time I got nervous it made talking much harder than usual. It was a vicious cycle because there's nothing like being new and shy and ALSO not being able to put a sentence together. It's great.  
"That's because I didn't have myself to show me around" he said, then cocked his head to the side and tried to figure out if it had made any sense. It might not have but I knew what he meant.  
"True."  
"AND, more importantly, I didn't know my roommate."  
That was probably the thing I was looking forward to most. Oh yeah, they had an amazing music program and every type of chorus or band you could want. They had an amazing new library and the weather, well who can complain about southern California weather? But more than anything, I was going to get to room with Scott. After a year of settling for seeing each other only over breaks and skyping approximately 28 hours a day in between, we were finally going to be together full time. "I hope mine doesn't snore."  
"Only when I've been drinking apparently" he teased, leading me up the huge steps to the residence hall. "Hey Bryce, Tim" he called as he walked past a pair of guys sprawled across chairs and playing what looked to be some sort of card game.   
I was immensely grateful at that moment that I could trust Scott to take care of things and realized perhaps for the first time how insanely brave he'd been coming here alone last year. Yeah I'd helped as much as I could but he'd been by himself while I was safe in my room in Texas. He was right, I didn't need to worry about anything. I'd joined lots of new schools and this was no different, it would probably easier with Scott here. A smile spread on my face and he must have seen it.  
"What are you thinking?" he asked, returning my grin.  
"You're right."  
"Can you sign this?" he asked, pushing a paper towards me. For a moment I thought he wanted proof of being right but I quickly realized it was for my keycard. "So this works on all the doors and it's your meal card, okay? Keep this and your student ID with you all the time."  
I rolled my eyes, I knew that.   
"I'm only telling you so that I can laugh the first time you lock yourself out and have to call me. 418. Ready to go see it?"  
"Yes!" I adjusted my heavy backpack and was glad I had listened to Scott and not brought anything else with me yet. The dorm was a madhouse with parents and students and boxes and luggage all going every single which way.  
"Elevator will be a long wait, feeling up to the stairs?"  
"After long drive yes. Let's go." I'd seen the inside of Scott's room last year from just about every angle there was but seeing it on a screen was much different than walking inside. It was going to be OUR room and it felt like Christmas.  
"You can do the honors" he said, stepping out of the way in front of our door.  
I slipped my key into the reader and pushed the door open. It looked so different from his last year; bigger but also a lot like a jail cell.  
"Home sweet home" he said, following me in. "Once we get unpacked it'll look completely different. Making the beds makes a HUGE difference. What's our view like?" He walked to the window and opened the blinds. "Hey, not bad."  
He was right. If you looked to the left there was a big tree and grass area. It was better than looking straight down onto the road. "It's amazing."  
He gave a quick twist to the blinds, closing them. "What's really amazing is that we're here. You better be ready, I'm going to kiss you."  
"I don't need a warning to---" but he cut me off as he stepped towards me, one hand sneaking around my waist. And maybe I should have heeded his warning because Scott kissed me breathless, until I forgot which part of us was me and how to stand on two feet.  
"Mitchy?" he asked, his eyes dark.  
"Scott?"  
"I'm so glad we're here."  
"So am I Slim, so am I."  
"We're going to do amazing things, you and I."

*** *** ***  
*** Three months later ***  
"Mitchy, it's okay, calm down." He sat with his arm around me as I huddled in the corner, visibly shaking.  
"I can't do it. Can't. No way. Scott it's... there... I'm going to forget... what if they talk to me?"  
"You can do this babe, you CAN."  
"Not enough practice time, I don't know it."  
"You do. Listen to me, you are going to rock this. It's singing, come ON Mitch, this is nothing. And as for the questions, I'll answer. You just nod and smile, okay?"  
"What if I mess this up for you?" I asked solemnly.  
"You want to know the truth?" Scott sat down beside him and curled his legs up towards his chest just like Mitch was sitting. "If you, or any of the other mess it up, it doesn't matter. Because you know what? We wouldn't win without you. If it turns out that we can't win with you either, well, we tried. I hope the same goes for me."  
"Someone else could have--"  
"NO. You, me, Kirstie, Avi and Kevin. US five. That's it. No other combo works. We're here for a reason Mitch, you and me and all those people out there. We're GOOD. You know we're good."  
"I know. Okay, maybe I can do this."  
"You know what Mike would say -- a little fire in the gut will get you further than the same amount of worry."  
"He would totally say that" I admitted, a smile fighting its way to the surface. "How did I let you talk me into auditioning for the Sing-off?"  
"Oh make no mistake, we're not here to audition. We're here to win."

*** Thanks so much for coming on this journey with Mitch and Slim!!!! Your votes and comments mean the world, I appreciate them SO much!!


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